Love You To Death
by Nyx6
Summary: After the drama of their first year together, Lauren and Dean are now husband and wife. But because there's no such thing as happy endings, their first few married months are not going to be smooth and especially not when Lauren picks up an admirer. Are they an old friend or somebody new and more importantly might they love her a little too much. Might they even...love her death?
1. Lock Stock And One Smokin' Husband

**Well, here we are folks, the wait is finally over and let me tell you I have STRESSED about this story (and life in general) but yep, we're back! Dean and Lauren are on the old crazy train again. **

**Hope you're all ready for another wild ride! ****Part 10 of their story (part 10 can you believe it?!) is about to get underway.**

**Hold onto your hats...**

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**Lock Stock And One Smokin' Husband**

Because I had grown up in rural Wisconsin, I had never been caught up in a gunfight before, since the most exciting thing to ever happen in _my_ hometown had been the time a loose cow had wandered into the church and eaten a box of communion wafers.

Gun crime had never been part of my world and so therefore neither had being chased through a high tech building by a gang of corrupt and generally all round bad cops, who had murdered my father, shot at my husband and then forced us into hiding beneath a desk in the lab.

One hell of a Monday it was fast turning into.

Line, oops —

"Here, let me take a look at that."

Following my gaze, Dean lifted his arm up to examine the part that was missing a chunk, or which _looked_ like it was thanks to all the oozy ickiness and the puckered up skin and the red colored lumps. I literally had no clue what _those_ parts were supposed to be. Congealed blood?

He shrugged,

"Nah, I've had a lot worse. I mean it's basically a flesh wound."

"Uh huh," I nodded back at him, but I pulled in his bicep nevertheless and then tried to remember the process I had been talked through while at the same time trying to look suitably scared. Which wasn't too hard. I had looked that way for weeks now.

What the hell was I doing there?

_Me_.

Lauren Ambrose.

Because oh, had I mentioned the fact we were married? Yep. Nine weeks exactly and _god_ it felt good. Except for the running and the having to dodge bullets part. Not that we'd been given much choice about that.

Pulling a white lab coat from a hook in the cubicle, I tore the bottom hem into a bandage sized strip and then carefully looped it around the gross and bloodied bicep as my husband scrunched his face tight then winced up a storm.

Oooh god he was good. Like Robert De Niro, but messy headed and way cuter. I tied the final knot and then sat back hopefully,

"There, is that better?"

He flexed his arm then nodded,

"Thanks."

"Anytime," I purred back, which brought his blue eyes up to lock onto my brown ones and for a second we shared a tiny moment in the gloom, which had enveloped the building when the lights had been turned off. Well, with the exception of the ginormous big searchlight which was circling out beyond us.

Dean licked his lips.

Ugh —

I _loved _when he did that, or played with his mouth in any way and _especially_ with that scandalous little lizard tongue of his. Most of the time he barely knew he was doing it, but other times he knew totally.

I leaned towards him.

_Take me now._

Instead however there was a clatter from behind us and he reached out and put his hand over my mouth, while using his other one to make a shushing motion, even though it was also holding tight to his gun. It was kind of strange really, because for the most part I was a pacifist and weapons of any kind scared the bejesus out of me. But my _husband_ with a gun was a whole other story.

Hypocritical?

Yep. But holy crap he looked hot.

Taking a chance he peeked his head over the desktop and then instantly hunkered down again. In response I bit my lip,

"Is that them?"

"Uh huh," he grunted back shortly, "Which means we're gonna need to get outta here fast, before we turn into some real easy target practice. Figure you can make it back over to the door?"

I nodded,

"I mean, I _think_ so,"

"Good."

"But what about you though?"

"Hey, forget about me here an' focus on the door."

_Hmmm_.

I frowned just a little bit at _that_ line. Because frankly regardless of _how_ terrified I was, no way would I have left my new husband behind _ever_, since he was pretty much all I had left in the world. But what else could I do when the call wasn't my own one and Dean certainly didn't seem too bothered anyhow, since he shifted up onto the front of his boot toes. The movement bunched up the loose material of his jeans and exposed the curve of his skinny little hip bones.

Oooh. Me likey.

Lauren, focus on the door.

Or Leah —

Because _technically _I was Leah Freemont now. Daughter of local murdered bad guy George Fremont, who had come to the precinct to seek out the truth and which had gone over _super_ well with the band of crooked culprits.

Not so much.

"Hey, get goin' _now_."

Oops.

Dean burst up and out of our hiding place pushing me in front of him and firing off rounds, which even after three weeks spent constantly hearing them still seemed to make the loudest sound in the world. I clapped my hands over my ear drums to mute them but it made zero difference.

_Bang-bang-bang._

"Princess move."

Blistering past me on those stupidly long legs of his, my husband roughly tangled up one of my hands and then used it to tow me at a breakneck pace behind him, which even in _normal_ shoes would have been too fast, but in heels was pretty much physically impossible. I had literally begged to be allowed to wear boots, or even a nice pair of sensible kitten heels. But nope. There I was in stilettos instead. Like _that_ was what a grieving woman would slip on rather than sneakers.

Had he called me Princess?

_Bang-bang-bang._

As a crackle of returning gunfire boomed back at us, I squeaked and then launched about a foot in the air as a chunk of partition wall exploded beside me and threw bits of plasterwork into our path. Dean towed me on,

"Keep goin', keep goin'."

With the bullets still pinging and buzzing around us, we lurched over the threshold panting like mad and then turned to make our escape around the corner.

By which I mean _Dean_ turned.

I meanwhile fell.

Or not even _fell_ so much as fully pitched over as my ankle chose to move the opposite way to my shoe and with a cracking bone noise that sounded genuinely horrific. Hot pain washed through me and I crashed into the wall.

"Ouch, ooh crap, ooh okay, so that hurt."

"Damn it — ,"

Dean barked the curse over the bangs but then stopped and covered me over with his body to protect me from the bullets the only way he knew how. Plus on the up side it brought him in closer. So close in fact that we were smushed boobs to chest with our nose tips practically touching together and the cool mint of his gum blowing over my face. His moist little lips were tantalisingly close to me, practically crying out to be kissed and so ignoring the fact that we were caught in a gunfight I tiptoed up to meet him and then tilted my head.

Holy crap it was going to be incredible.

Or not.

Because instead a barked shout echoed out across the space and made us jump.

"Okay and cut."

"Nooo."

My plaintive little call echoed in around the studio and in response to it Dean raised a knowing looking brow and as did the _other_ twenty guys stood behind us holding cameras and boom mikes.

Yep, we were making a film.

But by which I meant like a proper sort of action one, with a script and extras and props and that jazz. Not that I had bought it for so much as a second when Vince had called us up into his office to explain.

I had been convinced it was some sort of prank thing. Hence why I had basically laughed in his face.

"A movie?"

"Absolutely kid," Vince had beamed back at me, before steepling his fingers over his charcoal grey suit and then leaning back like it was something and nothing, which frankly to _him_ it probably was, "I mean, the fans are pretty crazy about you newlywed lovebirds, so what better way cash in on that fact?"

"But — but I can't act."

Vince had waved an airy hand at me,

"Everyone says that."

"But I mean it," I had stressed, beginning to panic because no way could he be serious, "In high school they only let me be in one production and even then I was scenery. They did West Side Story and I was a tree. There _are_ no trees in West Side Story. _Plus _I snagged the curtain on the opening night and pulled it down onto top of the chorus. The audience saw everyone in their underwear backstage."

"Perfect kid, I love it."

Vince had slapped on the desktop and then wiped his eyes free from all the laughter tears, which hadn't been the reaction I had wanted on that front. Or had even _expected_. I had frowned at him.

_Humph._

"No one in the theatre thought it was funny. I concussed the lead actor so they called nine-one-one _and_ they had to give the audience a refund and — ,"

"Princess take it easy."

I had shut up and blinked as somewhere beside me Dean had grazed my arm loosely and then shifted uncomfortably in the plush leather chair. Because he had been _more_ pent up than I was. Although not because of the whole play disaster thing.

Or probably not anyway.

Not that I figured.

Because _he_ had been pissed that we were even freaking _there_ and with good reason too since he last time Vince had met us had been a mere two weeks before, on the night the old man had faithfully promised to look out for me before then letting me nearly get married against my will, thanks to the latest messed up brainchild of my stepmom.

I had nearly become Mrs Lauren Orton.

Ewww.

But which had therefore been the reason that Dean had clenched his fists up and then been more coherent than I had been.

Sort of.

Or maybe not but he was definitely _definitely_ more angry.

"Oh come on. I mean are you freakin' _kiddin_' me with this crap? Is this some kind of twisted wedding present or some shit? Because if it _is_ then you might wanna get us somethin' we really want. Like ten minutes with Randy Orton in a locked room with a pool cue, or how about the keys to where your demon spawn lives, an' like a flamethrower to burn her nest down or somethin'?"

By demon spawn he had meant Stephanie. Said evil stepmom.

Vince had laughed again like he had thought he was kidding, but then bizarrely not gone in for the murderous route and nor had he gone in for us turning down the movie, which had been more of a blow because after all, he _was_ the boss. Dean had tried though and been adamant about it.

No way in hell were we starring in a film.

No chance.

It would literally be over our dead bodies —

So naturally then five short weeks later there we were, on a film set in Canada running through bullets on what was evidently our very first feature length shoot and hopefully our last too.

Vince McMahon willing.

Plus in hindsight our being out there was perfectly timed, given what had happened on Raw the week after which had nearly ruined everything and still made me turn cold. But frankly the less said about _that_ night the better.

Not to mention the less said about that little weasel Seth.

"Great work Lauren."

Huh?

I blinked in confusion as somewhere in the real world someone said my name and then shook my head like I was clearing a fog bank before realizing it was actually the director of our film.

I cleared my throat awkwardly,

"Good work?"

"Absolutely," he nodded back keenly, pretty much ignoring Dean, who had easily been the MVP of the two of us, as anyone with a working pair of eyeballs could have seen. Or not, "Taking that tumble as you rounded the corner there really helps to highlight how _scared_ your character is. I mean, I can tell you thought a lot about this sequence."

"You think I fell on purpose?" I spluttered in response, feeling both blindsided and weirdly kind of flattered that he would credit me with real life acting process of any sort.

But nope.

It was clumsiness.

I opened my mouth to tell him but was then beaten to it by my husband stepping in and throwing an arm around my shoulders to silence me with a hugely worryingly and very cheeky looking grin,

Uh oh.

"Oh yeah man, my girl is freakin' _method_," he offered out brightly, "She's been in character for weeks. In the grocery store, at the dog park an' even in the bedroom, which has made things real interestin' if you know what I mean?"

"Dean," I hissed in measures of horror as our director promptly turned nine or ten shades of hot pink,

"Oh?" he coughed,

Dean snorted,

"Oh yeah dude. I mean, between you an' me she's kinda too much, because some nights I jus' want some shuteye you know man? But then there the wife is makin' these _sounds_ an' I know m' gonna be in for another wild evenin'."

I gaped at him,

"Dean. I do _not_ make any _sounds_."

In response he reached up and gave my bra strap a twanging, but keeping his expression innocent the whole time as I launched into the air and let out a little squeak noise. In response he sighed heavily and then shrugged,

"Yep that's the one."

_Ugh_.

I elbowed him as hard as I could manage and then pushed him backwards before clearing my throat and compensating with what I hoped would be a charming little titter but which actually came out sort of certifiable.

Unsurprisingly perhaps.

"Oh god, please ignore him. He's kidding, totally kidding. _Big_ kidder this one. Because I promise that I have never been a character in bedroom," I paused, "Oh, well I mean I guess there was this _one_ time when I tried the whole nurse thing, but I wasn't very good at it and he mostly just laughed and — wow, am I still talking?"

Our director blinked rapidly, based on which I guessed his answer was _yes_.

Opening my mouth I went to try make things better — or knowing my luck about twenty times worse — but luckily our director chose instead to spin away from me and clap his hands loudly.

His voice sounded hoarse.

"Okay everybody, take a break for half an hour, but then I need you back so we can shoot the final scene. Oh and Dean, please remember to call her Leah."

My husband responded with a salute,

"You got it boss."

"But I'm not _really_ insatiable," I bleated from behind them, which earned a throaty chuckle from a passing cameraman, but got zero response from our beetroot red director who was probably still busy picturing Dean and I in bed. Because _that_ would work wonders for our professional relationship.

My husband wound an arm around my waist and then grinned,

"Final scene huh? Is that the one where we suck face after I bust in an' save you like a hero I am?"

I huffed at him,

"It _was_, until _you_ thought it would be funny to tell our director I was some deviant in bed and so _now_ in that scene you save me and we shake on it, because frankly I'm not so sure I _want_ to kiss you right now."

Dean chuckled huskily.

Oh god. _Dimples_.

"Oh come on, we both know you could never say no to these lips, an' all the terrible little things they got planned for you."

Moving in closer he nuzzled himself a sneaky kissing spot beneath my brown hair where my jaw met my ear and right at the point where the skin became tender, not to mention pretty crazily responsive to his touch. I trembled but then managed to reluctantly push him backwards.

_Be strong Lauren._

"Nope, I'm still mad at you. But I mean, nice try though."

"Huh?"

Dean blinked in surprise at me and I struggled to bite back a smug little smirk, before turning on my heels in a stalk of pure victory —

Which would have been great had it not been for my foot and the ankle I had ruined five minutes beforehand. I made it one step and then stopped with a hiss as someone stabbed a butcher's knife into the damage. Or possibly not but it sure _felt_ like that.

"Ooh ouch, crap."

Dean was there in a heartbeat,

"Lauren?"

"My ankle — ,"

"You really hurt it that bad?"

"I think it might be broken," I whimpered pathetically. In response to that part he raised a wry brow, but hunkered low anyway and eased off the stiletto which I totally blamed for the probable break before moving warm pads over my ankle and rumbling loose a sentence.

"Think you can maybe move your foot?"

I wiggled it absently,

"Oh god, will Vince be angry? Because a broken ankle is _totally_ going to hold up the shoot, which is going to cost him a bunch of money and — ,"

Dean stood back up,

"Hey."

"Oh no," I carried on, "He — he's going to fire me isn't he? So I won't be able to travel with you and Roman anymore _and_ I'll have to find another job back in Vegas and we won't see each other and our marriage will fall apart."

"Princess, take it easy huh?"

Dean cupped my cheek bones and as usual the gaze of his blue eyes shut me up. I had married a savant or a muscle bound warlock.

I blinked,

"It's broken isn't it?"

"Mildly sprained."

"Oh."

I frowned and then grunted a little bit at that part, since the wind had been somewhat taken out of my sails. Honestly I had been expecting the news to be terrible, but on the plus side my bewilderment made my husband sort of snort and then spin around to hunker down in front of me with his arms held out backwards,

"C' mon clumsy, jump on, before you end up freakin' breakin' your _other_ ankle, or a meteorite hits you or some crap like that."

He was offering me a lift and so slipping my other heel off and then collecting up _both_ of the stupid things in my hand, I clambered aboard and let him hitch me up higher before turning to carry me over the set and back out into the lot beyond the studio where a sea of movie trailers sat glittering in the sun.

_I_ was in a movie?

I still couldn't believe it, or really much of _any_ of the thirteen past months, considering that I'd been drugged and kidnapped not once, but _two_ times and become the first woman to score a commentary post, not to mention that I had found the true love of my existence.

Married him too.

His head was bobbing around in front and so absently I carded my fingers through his tangle, rubbing them backwards to a point on his skull where there was still a tiny bump, but not as big as it had been.

Dean grumbled knowingly,

"Princess — ,"

"Just checking," I whispered back as I rooted like a hungry little monkey at his cranium, "In case it maybe popped back up."

"Nope, m' fine baby."

I bit my lip,

"Ugh, I know you are, but sometimes I can see it all over again and I can picture you just _lying_ there," I broke off at that point, since it was bad enough having to _remember_ thing, let alone having to actually say it.

Seth had stamped on his head.

_Literally_. And not only that but he had stamped it through cinder blocks which he had set up to murder the older brother he'd once loved, while Kane had held me back begging and crying which had made little difference.

"Seth please — please _no_."

He had done it anyway and concussed Dean so badly that for nearly a week he'd had no clue who he was, or who _I_ was or that he was even a wrestler. The only thing he _had_ remembered was his need to kill Seth, which he had ranted on repeat mode over and over as I had shushed him repeatedly and lulled him back into sleep.

I had never been so scared or so helpless or so powerless and so yep, from time to time I still liked to check the bump.

No bigger than last time.

Good.

"Nah c' mon Princess," Dean hitched me higher as he turned us through the maze of showbiz trailers to our own, which I had never been able to pick out but which he knew instinctively through husbandly ESP, "It's gonna take more for that weasel to finish me."

Which, by _weasel_ he clearly meant Seth.

"But I had to lock all the doors," I reminded him, "Because you kept on saying that you needed to go home and then the one time I forgot you went into the street naked and tried to hail a cab."

Trampling up the steps to our little movie bolthole he grunted in what was probably a measure of pride, since even though he remembered precisely none of what had happened — _or_ me rushing out behind him with a towel and babbling multiple apologies to our neighbors — he still thought it was funny.

Yeah. Me not so much.

Letting us inside he carried me over to the couch bed and then lowered me down onto it so that I bounced on the cushions.

Oof —

He turned back,

"Princess, look I know that shit scared you, an' it fuckin' eats me up that I put you through that, but I promise you an' I mean _promise_ you m' good now, an' m' gonna kill him for you."

Once again he meant Seth.

Or possibly Kane, or even _both_ of them potentially, which I was more than on board with. He leaned in and pecked my lips before launching back up and clapping his hands briskly,

"Now then Mrs. Ambrose, let's get you some fuckin' ice."

Oooh. Mrs. Ambrose.

I hummed happily at that bit and then smiled as he thumped on the refrigerator door and tried to catch the avalanche of frozen cubes that tumbled out at him into a tea towel.

"Whoa. Oh holy fuck."

Darn it but he was cute.

"Barbara texted me earlier," I put in somewhat absently as I swung butt round and propped up my ankle which certainly _felt_ broken, or at least to my mind it did anyway, "Another house down the street was broken into two nights ago, so the police have been there busy knocking on doors."

In reply to me Dean cursed which I assumed was the ice thing but then turned out to be not,

"Fuck, I mean, what is that? Like the third fuckin' break in this month?"

"Fourth," I shrugged back, "Which is why we're super lucky we've got Boomer to protect the house, because okay, even though he would probably _lick_ a burglar since he loves everybody, he still _looks_ big and tough. Kind of like you."

I grinned up at him winningly as Dean crossed the space and then raised a teasing brow,

"You want this ice or not?"

"Yes please," I nodded back at him and he blew a little snort out then placed the compress on my bone, which made me hiss briefly but then sink back in approval because _wow_ that felt nice. I tossed the stilettos across the room, "Take that stupid heels."

Dean winced at me,

"Uh, Princess, pretty sure you still need those for the big finale."

"Damn."

He rolled his blue eyes and then parked himself beside me, before leaning in closer and half pinning me down, since I was laid on my back gazing up at him helplessly. He smoothed back my hair,

"It's an important scene too, so m' thinkin' we should probably rehearse it or somethin'."

_Hmmm_.

I chuckled up at him,

"You mean the kissing scene?"

"Yep."

Before I could even blink he had his lips planted over me, in the smooch we had both been denied back on set and which he clearly planned on making up for and _then_ some since it nearly knocked my socks off. Metaphorically of course. Throwing my arms up I pulled him in closer as our lips slid hungrily in a series of heavy pecks and nibbled and clashed and sucked at one another and as our tongues began to probe and then tangle hot and wet. Dean slid his hands towards my hips and I giggled as the lightly ghosting touch tickled over my skin and then blew out a sigh of pure and total contentment,

Making a movie.

What a terrible life.

* * *

**Okay, I'm going to be updating this story once a week, so if you're interested, please earmark Thursdays in your diary for your regular dose of Dean and Lauren fun. **

**It's good to be back!**


	2. Guess Who

**Chapter two already, huh? Got some old faces popping back up in this one, some of them welcome, others...well...not so much. But it's Lauren, so there is always going to be drama. That's our girl after all!**

**Mandy, Sooo glad that you're glad to have them back. I've missed being able to write this crazy couple and I have lots of ideas for them that I'm dying to pour out too. It's just finding time to get them all on the page!**

**Labinnacslove, Hiya *waves* yep, they're back and just as cute as ever. This story is quite a long one too, so there's going to be lots of cuteness before the end of it, oh and craziness, obviously!**

**Wolfgirl2013, Awww *blows kiss* thank you! **

**Rebel8954, Well Seth is definitely going to be featured in this story, because I have plans for Seth which I will hopefully reveal in the next story for these two, but yep, as for right now, Dean definitely wants to kill him!**

**xXBalorBabeXx, Thank you! I'm so glad you're back on board with this crazy pants couple!**

**Phoenix lord of rebirth, Oooh yay! I'm so glad you're giving them a shot. Basically, all you need to know at this point is that Lauren is Hunter's daughter (she found him last year and things are now a bit strained between them) and that she finds trouble A LOT! Luckily Dean is (nearly always) there to help though! Hope you enjoy!**

**Skovko, This one is definitely going to be an adventure. But then again, would you expect anything else?! Got another plot twist to throw in on this chapter, to add to the movie and break-in thing!**

**Minnie1015, Awww, you always know just what to say! Especially considering all the trouble and doubt I had. Thank you *hugs*. Hopefully I'm going to continue my streak with this chapter too!**

**Guest, Aww, glad you like them. Here comes the second chapter!**

**Time for Kelly...**

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**Guess Who**

Based on the fact that it was genuinely _hailing_ and I had left my waterproof coat hung up back home, the last thing I wanted as I launched into the coffee shop being hounded by a blast of hot summer monsoon, was to have a roomful of strangers staring at me.

"Here she is everybody, my best friend the movie star."

I looked up in horror,

Huh?

Kelly was standing on the far side of the room with her hands out towards me like the host of a late night talk show, welcoming me out to talk about my new book.

Every last head in the place spun towards me and I paused on the threshold with the rain billowing in and with my hair looking like I had been playing with lightning — since summer humidity had never been my friend — and whereupon people quickly realized I was a no one before returning to their lattes and soya milk.

_Oh thank god_.

Kelly meanwhile was still waving her manicure, so I cut a hastily path towards her table through the buzz, hoping to get there before she opened her mouth again or —

"Laurie, come tell me about your movie."

Maybe not.

I bit on hard the inside of my cheek to stop from screaming then sped my pace up into a breathless sort of trot, while trying to look super casual about it like I sprinted through my local coffee shop the whole time. My boot snagged on a bag and I made a sort of _eep_ noise before completing the last few meters in a lurch, so that I landed hands first in front of my bestie with my nose in a biscotti slice.

Kelly raised a brow,

"Nice entry sweetie but you screwed up the landing so it's only a nine."

_Ugh_.

How was she so cool?

Because presumably she had come through the same storm that I had, but as per usual she looked like a million bucks, with literally not a lonely blonde strand out of position, whereas _I_ had a hauled-through-a-hedge thing going on.

I pointed to the biscotti,

"I'm going to be needing that and possibly a hot cocoa."

Kelly pushed the plate my way and then smirked _uber_ smugly as one of the serving girls bustled over holding two mugs of steaming beverage in her hands, which she placed before us as I stripped loose my raincoat and then peered over the brim.

Bingo.

Hot cocoa _with_ cream.

"Kelly I've told you I love you before right? Because sometimes I feel I need to say it more, or possibly organize some sort of parade for you so that everyone can bask in your wonderous best friend glow."

Kelly nodded back,

"Well, I _am_ pretty wondrous and modest too naturally."

"Naturally," I concurred before putting a hand out to say hello to my godson who was parked beside the table in his stroller looking cute. Not to mention that he was trying to eat his own knuckle because — much like his papa — the kid liked his food. Kelly handed over a rusk to keep him happy and then leaned in looking serious.

"Laurie, tell me _everything_."

I blinked,

"Um, okay. Do you mean about the movie or — ,"

"_Duh_ of course I mean _the_ _movie_," Kelly shot back with a roll of her eyes, like it should have been obvious to anyone with brain cells, "I mean it's not like my bestie goes off to Hollywood _every_ day."

"So, I feel I should remind you we shot it in Canada."

But in the grand scheme of things that was hardly the point, since the pivotal part was that _I had been in a movie_, which honestly even I had to pinch myself about, so no wonder my long time best friend was in raptures.

"Laurie, I'm going to need the storyline _now_."

I paused,

"I'm not sure I'm allowed to — ,"

"_Now _Laurie."

I held my hands up with a grin then took a breath,

"Um, okay, so I play a woman whose bad guy of a father gets murdered by some cops which, oops, okay kind of _might _be a spoiler but it happens at the beginning so probably not."

Kelly snorted,

"Huh. Having a bad guy for a father sounds horribly familiar."

I hummed a noise back since I knew she was referring to my _real life_ parent which was basically a sore point no matter _where_ it was brought up, considering that when it came to being a father Hunter Hearst Helmsley was basically the worst. Swallowing down a lump I pushed away my biscotti before returning to the movie which was much safer ground.

Hmm. Now whereabouts had I got to?

Oh, right.

"Um, so _basically_ I head on down to the precinct because I think the police murdered him or something like that and which is where I bump into the handsome lead character who suspects the bad guys too _and_ has evidence."

"Handsome huh?"

"Ridiculously beautiful — criminally really."

Kelly blew a snort out then took a sip of chai tea which I copied by supping my way superior hot cocoa before then grinning like a lunatic because we were talking about Dean.

He'd been stood in the kitchen as I had left to meet Kelly but in his workout clothes looking hot and sweaty from his run, which was probably why I had then tweaked his butt cheeks,

He had lifted a brow,

"M' pretty sure that's sexual assault."

"Even when it comes with this innocent expression?" I had pouted in return, poking my bottom lip out and then fluttering my lashes so hard it had made me woozy and I'd had to brace on the counter for support.

My husband had snickered then pulled me towards him with one of his broads hands lazily hooked over my hip which I had gone with super willingly, breathing his scent in, happy in the knowledge that every bit of it was mine and then shuddering as he loosened his husky tones against me which made me resonate like crazy.

Especially _down_ _there_.

"Looks like I got me a kinky little wife, huh?"

"I'm innocent I tell you."

"No you're fuckin' not," Dean had grinned before fixing me a kiss so loving and hungry it had sucked the breath clean out of my mouth and then made me tiptoe myself up even higher so I could push myself harder up into his lips. By the time we had parted I'd been so utterly breathless my head had been spinning.

"_God_ I hate you sometimes."

"Why."

"_Because_ I'm _supposed_ to meet Kelly, but now I want _sexy time_ which is totally your fault and — okay I mean, I have a couple of minutes before I need to be leaving the house and besides, she probably knows I'm going to be late anyway so I _guess_ that could work."

"Princess, _whoa _— ,"

Dean had leaned forward to catch my lips a second time but only to stop me from blabbering on, which was something I could have had a bachelors degree in. But _he_ had a masters in shutting me up. He had turned me towards the hallway then handed me my car keys which I had blinked at in bewilderment.

Wait. No sexy time?

It's possible I may have even pouted a little,

"I knew it, two months in and you're already bored of me. Ugh, this marriage is a nothing but sham."

I had waved my hands melodramatically for emphasis as my husband had prodded me towards the porch of my childhood home, which was our go to base whenever we stopped over, or had time to kill having finished shooting a film.

Everyday stuff.

Dean had pulled me to a halt by the back of my belt loops and I had squeaked then pillowed backwards into his chest. His lips had found my neck as I had reached back to card his tangle,

"Princess,"

"Yes husband?"

"Let's get one thing fuckin' straight, because _you_ are like, the _least_ borin' person in history. I mean honestly? I freakin' love you in _spite_ of that crap. An' _secondly. _No, you know what, there _is_ no second. I love you like crazy, now go have fuckin' lunch."

How in the world had I gotten so lucky?

Huh?

Loose biscotti crumbs bounced off my head and I started then blinked into a pair of cool blue peepers. Only not the sexy ones belonging to my man, because instead my ever persistent best friend was gazing back at me wearing a knowing smirk.

"Is someone dreaming about their man?"

I blushed into my cocoa mug,

Uh oh. Busted.

"Maybe," I mumbled, "But only because he was wearing his _running shorts_, which kind of hang way too low off his hip bones which means that his gorgeous butt is just _there_ looking like it sort of _wants _to be pinched honestly and so earlier I may have, _oh _— ,"

I broke off with a blink.

Because a tiny little boy had come to stand beside our table and was peering up at me with his thumb in his mouth and a curious little expression on his features, which was troubling because how much had he heard? He had a snort bubble too which billowed large on his out breaths before being sucked back which was fantastically gross.

Kelly leaned towards him smiling maternally,

"Hey kid, get outta here."

"Kelly — ,"

I hissed as the snot bubbly munchkin gasped over his thumb tip then hastily scrambled back towards his chatting mom, who was bouncing an even smaller baby on her kneecap and clearly had no concept that her eldest had even gone.

Pre-empting my horror, Kelly held a brisk hand up,

"Laurie I had to — ,"

"You monster."

"Kid needs to learn and if his own mother won't teach him that random strangers are bad news then I'm sorry but I will and come on _besides_, that brat was basically a walking biological hazard, which is the _last_ thing I need when I'm trying to conceive."

I instantly choked on a mini marshmallow.

What?

"Did you say — did you say _conceive_?"

My best friend blushed, which was frankly so unlike her that it told me in a heartbeat how much getting pregnant meant, not to mention how much motherhood had clearly changed her — notwithstanding snotty kids who came to stand beside her seat. Letting out a squeal I practically launched myself towards her and then enveloped her completely in a bone breaking hug while gabbling like a lunatic.

No —

Like the _wife_ of a lunatic.

"Kel, oh my goodness, this is literally the best thing ever, because Roger is going to a kickass big bro — oh — besides which I cross my heart promise I'll be an even _better_ godmother the second time around, because I'm guessing you _can_ be a godmother more than once here. Um, provided you still _want_ me to be one that is?"

Kelly snorted and then rolled her blue eyes at me,

"Dear lord woman, be chill."

"Um, so is that a yes?"

"Laurie of course it's a _yes_ you big moron, I mean for god sakes you've been my best friend since we were three. If I had _twenty_ kids you'd be godmother to all of them," Kelly paused then winced, "Not that I _am_ having twenty kids, because can you imagine the death of my vagina?"

Eww —

Pulling a face I pushed my biscotti back and was about to respond with a cheerful _no thanks_, when suddenly my sister-from-another um _mister_, blew a breath out and then snatched up her coat,

"Damn it, time to go."

Huh?

Following her eyeline I found myself blinking at the snot encrusted little boy, who at long last had _clearly_ made his mother remember him but who was pointing at Kelly and blubbering up a storm. Frankly it sounded a lot like hot babble, but it was obviously a babble that his parent was fluent in since she slowly looked over and —

"Laurie get moving."

Kelly was already halfway across the shop, hovering on the threshold and windmilling me towards her like she was calling some sort of Boeing plane in to land. Hurriedly I polished off the rest of my cocoa and then scampered towards her trying to tug on my coat and brushing off the last few remains of biscotti.

"I'm coming, I'm coming."

Back outside the rain had stopped and a hazy summer sun was busting through the washout which put a newly happy little spring into my step, because honestly what was there _not_ for me to smile about?

Husband —

Best friend —

Beloved hometown —

Every last box on my imaginary bingo card was ticked to completion and _plus_ there was a brand new godchild in the mix. Or _nearly_ in the mix, but he or she still counted and so to that end I blew out a happy little breath before turning to try and catch up with my bestie who basically had _supermodel_ long legs while mine were more like stumps.

But instead I crashed into someone as they stepped from a store,

"Ooh god sorry. That was totally my fault and — ,"

"Lauren?"

Crud.

My heart lurched up into my gullet and then stayed there for a while fully stoppering up my lungs, since I would have known the baffled sounding tones nearly anywhere and had spent nearly _ten years_ hearing them moaning before.

Because there, stood before me was my once beloved boyfriend, who it turned out I had never really much loved at all.

Particularly when he had tried to drunkenly grope me.

I squeaked at him,

"Andy?"

But then why was I surprised? Because not only we were standing in our shared childhood hometown — which I presumed was where his very sweet parents still lived — but also because when it came to my life in general, I should have known that there was always a waiting speed bump _somewhere_, which usually took the form of my stepmother or father.

But why not my ex-boyfriend?

In many ways he _looked_ the same, by which I meant he seemed too rigid to be human or like he was waiting for an interview perhaps, but he _had_ grown a bushy moustache _plus_ a goatee, which I felt the need to tell him,

"You have facial hair."

_Ugh_.

It was literally the gold standard worst opening ever and I cringed as he blinked back a couple of times, before loosely tapping a hand to his stubble like maybe even he had forgotten it was there, but which in hindsight was probably nervousness. Not that I cared a whole lot about his nerves considering how much _I _was freaking out inside.

Andy had groped me.

He had broken my elbows.

_Both_ of which were then the reasons I bodily tensed as he stepped in towards me with a look of bewilderment and opened his mouth,

"Lauren — ,"

"I have nothing to say to you."

It came out a little more _blurted_ than I wanted but if nothing else then it summed up my feelings at least, because the last time I had seen him had been nine long months earlier, back when he had let himself into my house and proceeded to make out like the biggest butthole in history while apologizing for being an even _bigger_ butthole before. Dean had kicked him out and since then there had been nothing. So what _was_ there to say?

My best friend seemed to agree,

"Oh _hell_ no."

Having noticed me not beside her she had turned back to find me and then evidently laid eyes on our unwelcome guest, who she had pretty much been hankering to punch in the ballsack ever since the push that had broken my arm and which based on the way she was stalking back towards us, was more than likely going to happen.

"Congratulations."

"Huh?"

"People keep talking about you getting married, so, um, congratulations," Andy offered with a shrug, because in spite of my incoming best friend turned wrecking ball who was fixing to ram her stroller into his knees, my one time sweetheart was pressing on with the conversation like we were old buddies.

Um. Yeah. Not so much.

"Don't you mean congratulations on marrying the _meathead_?" I fired back, "Because I'm pretty sure that's what you called him last time. In between breaking in and bellowing at me that is — oh and not to mention the whole _threatening to sue_ us thing."

Kelly whooped loudly,

"You tell him sweetie, give him both barrels."

I had no clue what that meant but presumed it meant to keep on being ballsy, which I was _more_ than on board with. Andy blinked back and it hit me that he had probably never seen me being gutsy, since I had spent most of my life being kind of a little mouse. But then _that_ had been before the multiple kidnappings and the never-ending chaos, so no wonder I had changed.

He cleared his throat awkwardly,

"I know — I know I said that, which was wrong of me. I apologize. I take it all back, but I was kind of working through a few _issues_ back then and I made the mistake of thinking alcohol would help. But that's still no excuse, which is why I wanted to thank you."

I blinked in bewilderment.

Um, _curveball_.

"What? You — did you say you wanted to _thank me_?"

"For making me realize that I needed to fix my life and become a better person," Andy nodded deeply as I gaped back at him. Because, I mean, he wasn't _serious_, right ?

Kelly thought not,

"Oh come on. This is pathetic. Did you honestly think we would buy this steaming crap?"

In response to her hostility Andy pulled out his cell phone — which took a beat because it was caught up in his eternal suit folds — before thumbing through some images then holding it towards us. Andy's smiling peeked back out from the screen, with his head pressed in against a blonde person who I couldn't see too well because his thumb was in the way.

I blinked at it,

"Um — ,"

"In case you're wondering," he offered out grandly, "That is Toni, my new partner."

"Partner?" I barked, because even though I had no romantic interest in Andy — _none_, no make that even _less_ than none — being presented with the fact he had moved on from me was thoroughly weird to say the very least and made my stomach kind of turn over.

Toni?

Andy nodded,

"We've been dating for three months and _that _is the reason that I wanted to say thank you, because the old me would never have taken the chance. But seeing how mismatched and yet _happy_ you and Dean are made me dare to be different."

I blinked and —

Hold up.

"Wait, did you say _mismatched_?"

Rolling her eyes Kelly blew a brief huff out and then stepped towards me,

"Come on sweetie, enough. He had his chance to make it up to you a million times now, so screw it and screw him and his new fuck buddy okay? Because I swear if I have to listen to _one_ more word of this, I'm taking off my heels so I can fuck a bitch up."

Andy moved forward to stop us,

"Lauren — ,"

"Uh, buh-bye now," Kelly chirped back, before speeding us past with one hand around the stroller and the other pressed hard into the small of my back, as she cursed and muttered and swore revenge repeatedly. Because what she lacked in eloquence she made up for in spunk.

For a second or two I simply let her propel me — because my brain was a crazily whirring bundle of mush — but then I stopped and turned on the sidewalk, like I needed to check something and sure enough there he was. My one time love looking back at me forlornly, but blankly at the same time and impossible to read.

Maybe he _was_ a good guy now.

Maybe he wasn't.

But either way he would never be Dean and remembering that fact and remembering my husband shot me through with purpose and a sudden burst of fire, because _Toni_ was welcome to keep my ex-boyfriend.

After all, I had prime ribs waiting at home.

Hauling a breath in I pulled myself taller and then prepared to spin away on my heel a final time and possibly even with a confident hair flick of the type I had watched the female wrestlers use, because what better time to become a real diva? But unfortunately however I missed the incoming truck, oh and _also_ the huge massive puddle that it was steaming towards.

Kelly squeaked,

"Laurie look out."

But, nope —

No good. Because as I turned back towards her, I basically turned into the incoming swell, which rose up like a scene from _The Perfect Storm_ or something then enveloped me completely in a freezing cold flood and then made me channel my inner Dean for a second as I loudly and forcefully used his favorite word.

"_Fuck_."

* * *

**Yay, Kelly's back! Can't have a new Lauren and Dean story without Kelly. Am I right or am I right (I really hope I'm right!) **

**Next week Lauren tells Dean about her encounter. I'll give you two guesses about how he takes the news!**


	3. A Sky Full Of Stars

**Dean is back for this chapter folks! Can never keep him away for too long, plus he's super duper cute here!**

**Wolfgirl2013, Yep, it's mad alright! And yes, don't worry, Steph, Hunter (and Seth) are all on the way!**

**xXBalorBabeXx, I know, he definitely does. Boo Andy! But as long as they share the same hometown there's always the right of them bumping into each other I guess…**

**ShieldGirlBecky, There is more Kelly coming up in this story too. Glad you like her though. She is pretty cool, although I don't think she's quite as tough as she makes out!**

**AngelsDestiny22, Aww, so glad you're back for the ride! Haha. Well, please feel free to go back and read them! I'm not going to stop you!**

**Mandy, Yep, Dean saying Princess is something I love too...along with Kelly of course! Don't worry, Seth is definitely coming. He's got an interesting role to play in this story too (I think and hope!) So glad you're glad to have this couple back!**

**Skovko, Agreed. I mean, I definitely want Lauren and Dean to have kids in the future, but I need to make sure it keeps the fun and essence of them. We'll leave it to Kelly right now!**

**Phoenix lord of rebirth, Well first of all I'm so glad you're liking it. Lauren and Dean was the first wrestling story I wrote and everything else came from there. Not surprised you're a little confused but hopefully most of it makes sense!**

**Labinnacslove, Andy coming back is a bit of a twist, but I've got plenty more surprises where he came from too!**

**Minnie1015, You know what? There's not much sexy time in this one because there's so much else going on...I'll correct that for the next one, don't worry! Plus there's lots of cuteness with Dean, here included!**

**Dean for husband of the year in 3...2...1…**

* * *

**A Sky Full Of Stars**

By the time I got home I was still the wettest person ever. Like some hideous swamp creature from the depths of the lagoon and which was obvious from the footprints I left on the driveway and the literal _squelch_ I made as I stepped into the hall.

"Dean, are you home?"

Nothing.

I peeled my sodden coat off but could probably have stripped naked my clothes were so wet too. I chose not to though, in case one of my neighbors rang the doorbell, or a window cleaner decided to stop by the house so instead squelched into the lounge leaving droplets then frowned into the silence.

"Um, husband, _helloooo_?"

Part of me had expected him sprawled on the couch perhaps, napping or else watching some trashy old time film, since it was his vacation too and he never did those things usually.

But nope.

Dean wasn't there and so I took my search on, wondering if maybe he was still out running and at what point I was supposed to get reasonably concerned?

Shivering mildly I squelched into the kitchen in my formerly beautiful but now ruined suede boots, where a pair of broad forearms wrapped me up from behind suddenly and made me squeak in alarm.

"Oh god. No, please Mr Burglar, take my husband, he's cuter."

Hot lips found my nape in a rough little snort as Dean ghosted half pecks down the sweep of my jawline and tried to sound hurt,

"Nice Lauren, _real_ nice."

"Hey," I protested, "I've been kidnapped _plenty_ so it's about time you stepped in and took the damsel role for once. I mean, you totally have the eyelashes and the bone structure for it."

Dean mumbled something undecipherable at that, then spun me towards him so we face to face together and which frankly was always my favorite place to be. At some point he had obviously changed out of his running clothes since he was wearing cargo pants and a fresh white tee instead, which strained pretty beautifully over his muscles and made my whole body start to tingle with list.

He hummed at me,

"Princess, is it me or are you wet here?"

I blushed,

"Wow, okay. Um, maybe a bit? But what do you expect when you wear shirts like that though? Because honestly that thing is kind of more like a glove and besides, you _know_ I love when you kissed on my neckline, so me being _that way_ is your own fault okay?"

My husband blinked in response but then grinned at me, before reaching across and lightly fingering my blouse,

"Bad new Princess, 'cos I was talkin' about your _clothes_ here, but trust me, the rest of that is freakin' good to know. I mean like _real_ good to know."

I blinked,

"My clothes? What do my clothes — Oh. Oh dear god."

I let out a groan and then buried my head into his shoulder to spare my blushes, which he then made even _worse_ by chuckling huskily.

"_Fuck_. I mean, I know m' like a sex god an' everythin', but I didn't know I could getcha _this_ freakin' wet."

I hit his chest,

"_Dean_."

"Fuck happened to you anyway?"

"There was a truck and a puddle," I waved my hand around, while keeping my head buried into his shirt folds, like somehow the random gestures would help him fill the blanks, "I think I have typhoid."

"Want me to hunt his ugly ass down an' make him apologize?"

He meant the truck driver I presumed and in response I shook my head and then bit my bottom lip in, because I needed to broach the whole Andy thing with him, which I knew for a fact would probably make him go crazy, but had to be done. Secrets had never worked out. Like the time I had conveniently neglected to mention the fact my long lost father was actually his boss, or when I had signed up to commentate without telling him.

Here went nothing.

I opened my mouth, but was promptly beaten to it by him suddenly grinning like a proud little kid.

"Hey, wanna see somethin' cool?"

I blinked at him,

"Um, okay?"

He seemed excited — not that he had ever been good at standing still — but even his swaying seemed more pumped up than usual and his dimples were out too. _Wow_. I keened a bit at those then managed to miss the next part of his sentence,

"Dimples. Uh, sorry, I mean, what did you say?"

He smirked at me,

"I _said_ m' gonna need you to close those eyes for me."

"Uh oh," I chuckled warily, "I've heard that one before, but after that they hired a new music teacher and then not so much."

"Lauren — ,"

"Oh come on, it was a joke."

Dean rolled his eyes but was clearly trying to fight a grin back as he reached out between us and gently closed my eyes himself, which made me think of Andy and the claim he had levelled on the morning he had _technically _broken into my house and started ranting about the dangers dating a wrestler.

I would have killed to see his face watching Dean and I now.

Well, okay not _killed_ maybe.

"Ready?"

"Yep, think so," I nodded back, grinning a little as he wrapped up our fingers and then carefully led me towards the back porch, coaching as we went.

"Okay, now step. Whoa, hey. Princess, take it freakin' easy. Because who said _anythin_' about us bein' in a race?"

He had his free hand glued to my hip bone, which came in pretty useful when I took two steps at once and stumbled on the grass, but which he managed to steady before I fell over and added a concussion to my long list of woes.

I had literally no clue what he had in the yard for me, but trusted him implicitly nevertheless, even if it was something totally random like a treehouse or a goat or a new hand dug pond. Although, perhaps luckily it turned out to be none of those.

"Surprise," I opened my eyes at his grunt of amusement, "Happy kinda honeymoon."

"Dean — ," I blinked back.

There was a tent in the middle of the neat little yard space, in luminous orange with a blanket out in front and a tiny camping stove and oh, a six pack of beer too.

My husband grinned proudly,

"Freakin' told you it was cool, an' I gotta say this hometown of yours has, like _everythin_'. I mean they even had _bear repellent_ in the store, which I was kinda tempted to buy a couple cans of, because accordin' to the tags this tent is _not_ proofed for bears. But I mean, I figured we could probably take our chances in the yard here."

I coughed.

"You remembered me talking about this?"

Because I had, but only once about two months beforehand and as part of a much longer ramble I'd had which had been brought on by the nauseating realization that Stephanie had planned Randy attacking me before.

But Dean had _remembered_?

He shrugged,

"I mean, sure I did, because even though you yap about shit kinda _constantly_, I figure it's my job to listen you, right? I mean, what with bein' your husband or whatever."

_Ugh_.

Spinning back towards him I launched up onto my toes and engulfed him in a hug that was as fierce as I could give and which evidently had a little power behind it since it made him curse then nearly tumble back.

"Oh fuck — ,"

"Thank you for listening and remembering and for loving me."

Having recovered he leaned in for a kiss and then planted several small ones in rapid succession with a teasing swaying motion that rocked him forwards then back, but kept him out reach of a proper tongue lashing.

"Anytime Princess."

Nuh uh, not good enough and so the next time he leaned in I bunched up his shirt front and then hauled him in hungrily for a full bodied smooch, which made him grin wickedly.

Ooh, that part was sexy.

I buried my fingertips into his arms and then hummed into the contact as his palms cupped my butt cheeks and gave me a boost. I sucked his bottom lip and then bit on it a little because I knew that he liked it and he responded by pressing in ever more close, so that his nose was practically smushed into my cheekbone.

It was the hottest kiss in history.

_Tap-tap-tap._

Uh oh.

My elderly neighbor Lucy was stood in an upstairs window with her knuckles on the glass and a knowing eyebrow cocked, which implied that our display was not something she approved of.

Dean let out a groan,

"Oh freakin' _come on_. I mean what is she an eagle?"

"Dean," I squeaked, "She might hear you."

"Lauren, the woman is like a hundred an' two, an' can barely even hear me when m' stood two feet in front a' her, so m' gonna take a chance here an' say m' probably good."

But I elbowed him anyway as I threw a guilty smile up, then started to wave like an innocent newborn lamb, which he reluctantly copied but with an unimpressed mumble that I never quite caught.

I heard the word _buzzkill_ though.

"Come on."

Grabbing the hand that was still waving pointlessly, Dean spun me round and led me over to our camp, then in through the overhanging flaps of the canvas into what was officially my very first tent. He followed me in and then zippered it behind us,

He snorted,

"Ha. Good luck spyin' on us _now_ Luce."

Inside the tent it was surprisingly cosy and okay, so maybe not a five star hotel, but it was also not as rugged or as spartan as I had bet on and a whole lot more orange. It was like being in the womb. Or at least what I imagined that would possibly be like, since I couldn't remember. Which was probably for the best. There were blankets on the floor and sleeping bags and pillows and —

I blinked.

"Are those the cushions from the couch?"

Dean turned towards me but so impossibly closely that he made me physically have to catch my breath, because clearly going camping was an intimate process which I was more than on board for.

I grinned cheesily,

"Hello."

He snorted in response and then gestured at the bedding,

"Ground got all kinda lumpy an' shit, an' I told you before m' not doin' that to ya, m' not 'bout to slam my best girl into the floor."

"Who says that you're going to slam me into anything?" I shot back with what I hoped was a sultry sort of wink, but which based on his expression was probably normal blinking and so therefore not especially sultry at all. In response he narrowed his eyes teasingly for a second and then nodded,

"Have it your way kid."

He turned around to leave, which made me squeak and then surge forward to grab him as he moved towards the tent flaps,

"Wait, where are you going?"

He shrugged,

"To see if Luce is free for the evenin', because I think we _both_ know the real reason she tapped the glass. It's because those old bones want a piece of sexy wrestler, which you can hardly blame her for because I _am_ pretty hot."

"_Eww_. Dean gross. No hitting on the neighbors, which honestly? I feel like I shouldn't have to say and yet here we are."

I blew a teasing sigh out, or at the very least _tried_ to before shivering instead, as the movement of trying to pull him towards me grated the wet threads over my skin and reminded me abruptly of how ice cold I still was and of the dirty gutter puddle with its legions of germs.

Dear god I was doomed.

"Whoa, Princess?" Dean frowned at me, clearly having forgotten I was soaked to the bone, even though my hair was plastered slick to my features. Luckily however I was spared having to answer — depending on your definition of luck — by a sudden errant drop that trickled over my forehead before taking my nose like some sort of ski slope and hitting my collarbone which made me flinch heavily,

"Oooh crap, cold."

He got it rapidly after that.

"Fuck. The wet clothes thing? _Shit_. I forgot all about that, what with those impure thoughts about your neighbor an' all. Hey, whoa, kiddin', m' totally kiddin'. Hey baby get in here."

He flapped a blanket out — which I noticed was also pilfered from the living room — then threw it around my shoulders before pulling me in close and beginning to rub some warmth into my arms until I hummed at him,

"Don't stop. Oh god, that feels amazing."

"You know," he mumbled huskily next to my ear as I sank back against him like a pillow of muscles, "I might have a couple more tricks to get you warm."

"Oh really?"

"Uh huh."

He pressed a kiss to my shoulder through the loose but sodden material of my shirt and then stretched the collar wider as he traced the next one higher, straight against my skin, which kind of tickled and made me laugh.

He grumbled,

"Gonna get my girl so freakin' hot again."

I shivered, but only because I loved being called _his_ _girl_. In fact, I loved it when he called me _any_ pet name. Princess especially, or baby, or wife.

Behind me Dean was busy working his way up higher, in his one man mission to get me hotter than the sun and I could feel a hand beginning to creep north for boobage. So then why did I start _talking_?

"So I saw Andy today."

"You _what_?"

My husband popped back up like a cork from a bottle and then possibly creamed his head on a pole for the tent, based on the curse he tacked onto the end of it.

I winced. Oooh, ouch.

"Did he touch you, or hurt you? Fuck. Okay, tell me straight here, what did he said to you, because I know he musta said _some_ fucked up shit, an' I need to know how hard to wrench ballsack when I track his ass down."

Was it weird I found that hot?

Keeping the blanket pressed tight around my shoulders — because holy crap how in the world was it so _cold_ — I clumsily scooted myself back around to face him and then cupped his cheeks with what were probably frozen hands considering the way he hissed in surprise at them.

"Dean, I'm fine. He didn't touch me okay? And I'm pretty sure there's no need to worry about his ballsack, because if he _had_ hurt me then I'm ninety _nine_ percent certain that Kel would have castrated him."

"Lauren, tell me what he said."

_Oops_.

The husband was using staccato tones at me, which meant that he was obviously an unhappy pup and so I shrugged and then tried my best to remember, since honestly the whole thing was kind of one big crazy blur.

"Um, congratulations?"

"What?"

I nodded back at him,

"I know right? I mean at first I thought he was being sarcastic, but then he showed me the shot of Toni and now I'm not sure, because he honestly did seem to genuinely like her."

"Who the fuck is Toni?"

Dean was blinking up a storm, which was possibly because I had skipped parts of the story in my haphazard retelling,

"His new girlfriend. She has blonde hair. Not that I saw her, well only a picture and actually he had his thumb over her face. But he looked super happy and _— oh, _he's grown a beard now, which is kind of super weird since he hated facial hair and he says he's changed, which I guess would make sense, but he was still too overdressed."

Dean let out a weary growl and then began to massage his temples, which I leaned in and took over as his blue eyes came back up,

"Lauren — ,"

"So to _recap_," I butted in smoothly, counting the points off on my fingers like a list, "Nobody hurt me, my ex boyfriend has moved on from me and _lastly_ I have the best husband in the world."

Dean raised a brow,

"Nice save."

"Thanks, I thought so."

Biting back a grin he flicked the tip of my nose and then pulled me in closer as I pretended to be outraged, which was hard to pull off since his smile was _so_ cute and _especially_ considering he then poked his red hot tongue out and bit hard on the end like a naughty little kid.

Darn it.

My man was completely adorable.

"So now hold up a second an' lemme get this straight here, because are you tryin' to tell me that the guy who put his hands on you an' broke into your house like, ten months ago, got a new girlfriend an' is now magically over you?"

I blinked in response and then winced a little,

"Yes?"

Dean shook his head,

"Nope, not freakin' buyin' it."

"But — ,"

"No way is that asshole not still secretly in love, an' tryin' to make out like he has moved on an' that shit by stringin' some poor fuckin' woman along. I mean, I'll bet you like, _anythin_' he tosses her once we're outta here."

Huh? Not Toni surely?

I bit my lip then shrugged,

"But that's the thing, I'm not really sure he ever really _was_ in love with me, I mean, not like you are, not _properly _I guess. Because he would _never_ have fought for me or protected me like you do and he never made a campsite because I mentioned it once, _or_ told me that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with me. He and I were together, but we were never in love."

_Phew_.

It felt good to acknowledge that finally — even though I had probably always known it was true — but it was made even better by Dean reaching out towards me and then sweeping my hair back a little too hard.

"How the fuck could anybody not love you?"

"Well, I mean I can be — ,"

"Princess."

He buttoned up my lips and then leaned in towards me grinning over the distance, before giving me a long but super chaste sort of kiss. I mean, except for the tongue that he ran over my lip line. But other than that it was simple and sweet and made me blow a breath out when he finally broke away from me with a wet but sexy _unsuckering_ sound.

I blinked,

"Um, is this what usually happens on campouts? Because if it _is_ then you might have to sign me up for more."

"Done," he snorted back, still moving towards me, but instead of another kiss he lowered his head into my lap and then nuzzled himself a little pillow on my thigh chub before grumbling momentarily and letting his eyes close, "Princess, m' jus' gonna have a lil' nap here, because puttin' up a campsite is like, freakin' hard work."

"Does it help that I love it and I love you for making it?"

"Yeah, it helps, an'thin' f' you kid."

In response I kneaded through his hair in a loving massage, which I hoped would work out some of the rub and which evidently worked since his breathing began to deeper andas he clearly let himself drift off to sleep.

My big scary wrestler husband.

_Buzz-buzz._

Somewhere beside us my cell phone went off and not wanting it to wake him I groped about one handed before pulling it loose from the folds of my purse and flipping up the message expecting something from Kelly but then blinking in surprise at he text staring back.

_I just wanted to say you looked absolutely beautiful._

_Unknown._

Aww. Well that was nice, but clearly not meant for me, since it probably been typed by a smooth talking sender in response to what was probably a dating app swipe. Luckily for him though I decided to be nice with it.

_Sorry, wrong number, but fingers crossed for you._

Send.

Then I threw my phone down and didn't think much more about it. Although as it turned out, I had opened a _whole _can of worms.

* * *

**Dun dun dunnn! Lauren's getting herself in trouble again! Hands up, who knew it was coming? Next chapter Dean and Lauren go out running, Dean makes a surprise announcement and Lauren...uh, well, Lauren is Lauren!**


	4. Have A Nice Trip

**It's Wednesday everyone, so you know what that means…it's time for Lauren to get into (more) trouble somehow and someway! **

**Wolfgirl2013, Yep. Definitely an uh oh coming up (maybe several in fact!)**

**Mandy, Awww, thanks! Don't worry, Seth is coming in a few chapters. I actually really like where he's heading in this story and the next one (currently working on) so hopefully you will too! But until we get Seth, please accept some more of Dean and Lauren being cute.**

**xXBalorBabeXx, Hmmm, well, I'm afraid as ever I can neither confirm nor deny anything or anyone's involvement! All I will say is that Andy definitely pops up again in this story. So do with that titbit of information what you will *walks off whistling*…**

**Skovko, Well someone is stalking her (or will be) but there's a whole lot more story until we figure out who because…well, because I'm cruel and oh yeah, you're definitely going to need your popcorn for this one!**

**Labinnacslove, Actually, for once I don't think we can blame Lauren for what happens in this story. Well, not all of it anyway! Sometimes that girl just attracts the drama. This chapter included, although for different reasons!**

**HannonsPen, Hello! Welcome back to the crazy and don't worry, there is plenty more Kelly and descriptions of Dean to come in this story. So settle in for the ride!**

**Minnie1015, Awww, well, I do love writing them being all cute. Or Dean being cute and Lauren being Lauren, which is probably about the same thing! Lots coming up in this story before we get to the end. This is going to be twist and turn city…I hope! But first here's Lauren doing what she does best…causing trouble!**

**Chapter four…**

* * *

**Have A Nice Trip**

Not including the house I had grown up in and which was still our main base whenever we hit town, the lake which my birthplace sat on the banks of was still one of my favorite spots in the world, with its serene crystal waters and the tree lined hills in the background. I had seen it a million times and it had never grown old and especially not as it moved into autumn in a hot flush of blood reds and oranges and golds.

Even upside down it looked totally amazing and so I blew out a breath and then murmured at it,

"Wow."

Everything seemed beautiful and tranquil and peaceful –

"Princess, the fuck is goin' on over there?"

Huh?

Blinking in confusion through the gap between my kneecaps, I looked across the path to where my husband was stood, looking super sexual in the loose fitting running shorts that skimmed over his hips like they were barely hanging on and with a grey muscle shirt and a backwards cap on top of it, from beneath which tufts of hair were springing loose. I shrugged at him but wasn't sure the movement really carried since it was hard to pull off when I was trying to touch my toes.

"Um, I'm warming up for our run."

"What, with _that_ shit?"

"What shit?"

"_That_."

He gestured loosely with a hand, possibly to indicate the ass up, head down position which probably made me look like some kind of waterbird, trying to pluck weed from a pond or something.

I frowned at him,

"But, how else am I supposed to warm up?"

He rolled his eyes,

"Jesus."

Then turned and trudged towards me wearing a smirk which wasn't obvious at first, but then became clearer as I returned to being vertical. Well, through the spots and sudden dizziness that was.

I clutched at his arm,

"Oooh wow, I feel nauseous."

"Princess?"

His hands landed warm on my hips and then burnt through the lycra running pants I had squeezed into with no small amount of protest back at the house a half an hour before when Dean had suggested we go running together. It was hardly a secret that I hated to run, or skip or jog or even _walk_ if I was honest, but my husband had built me a _campsite_ the night before and so frankly if the trade off was having to go running, or possibly even _potholing_ then I would have gone along since it seemed like the minimum I owed him for loving me and being so perfect. I swallowed down a lump — which was either emotion or else a ball of vomit — and then nodded at him haltingly,

"Yep, okay I'm all good."

He shook his head at that part and then blew a fond snort out, but he was standing so close that it ruffled my hair, or at least the stupid strands that never stayed in the ponytail,

"Fuck, do you ever need a whole lot of work?"

I blinked at him,

"Um, are we still talking about the warm up? Because there's not a whole lot I can do about my face, unless I had like plastic surgery or something. Ooh, you know what? I've been thinking about going blonde. Not like a Marilyn Monroe blonde or anything but much more of a sort of goldeny brown? So that might pick my whole look up a little."

He put a hand over my mouth,

"I meant the warm ups."

"Okay good."

Well, that was what I _meant_ to say anyway but because of his palm it came out kind of muffled.

He grinned at me,

"Okay Princess," he stepped around behind me before returning his hot little hands to my hips and then murmuring over my nape in a rumble, "Time for the professional to show you the ropes."

I looked around,

"Oh, so when did Roman get here?"

"Funny Lauren. Real funny."

He licked the back of my neck and I squeaked and then tried to scrub the wetness back off again with the sleeve of the sweater he had given me to wear and which therefore was about twelve sizes too big for me but smelt super musty and sexy, like him. My husband chuckled smugly but then pushed my hand back down again,

"Right, first things first we need to loosen up those hips, so imagine you're like, paintin' a circle okay wife?"

"Like this?"

I started to spin my booty wildly, like I was trying to keep a hidden hula hoop up, or was dancing to a song in an imaginary nightclub since I also had both of my hands held right up.

Dean reached over and pulled me back against him,

"Hey, whoa. What is this? A freakin' hip hop video here? _Slower_ okay baby? Like this."

He took me with him as he slowly traced a circle, but with my butt to his package which I could feel through my threads and which made me blush because there were people close by us. Or well, not _yet_ since it was still pretty early, but a family could _potentially_ have turned up at any time and rounded the corner to find us –

Um. Gyrating?

I bit my lip a little,

"Dean? Is this a real move? Because it feels kind of _sexual_."

"Got a problem with that Princess?"

I blinked,

"Nope, guess not."

"Good."

He continued to grind us both, which admittedly _did_ seem to loosen my hips up, but was also beginning to make _more _things happen too. More things much lower. I dropped my head into the nook of his shoulder as I shut my eyes and leaned myself into his touch and the continual circling motion of our bodies set to birdsong and water lapping the banks beyond. Dean moved his hands so they were cupping my butt cheeks and I hummed into the contact.

"You feel that Princess?"

"Uh huh."

"'Kay, because I got one more move I've been savin'."

I bit my lip as he started to warm his hands up and then braced myself for something super handsy and hot. But nope. Because instead he swiped my butt cheeks super rapidly and then chuckled like a kid as I let out a squeal and then whirled myself towards him with my hands pressed to the burn mark.

My husband smirked back at me innocently,

"What?"

"I suppose you think this makes you funny? Wait, is this because I made that harmless Roman joke before?"

"Got it in one kid."

He threw a cheeky wink at me and in response I mustered up my best outraged huff and then spun on my heel like I was going to flounce away from him, but he reached over and hooked up the back of my bra, which was a stretchy sports one and so flexed like a bungee before propelling me back,

"_Hey_."

"Whoa, easy, no you don't. Because nice try everythin' but you're not gettin' outta this run kid. Now c' mon already because we're burnin' daylight hours."

"But — ,"

He gave me a gentle little nudge and so blowing a breath out I reluctantly set off running, with my husband following pretty closely behind, presumably to make sure I stayed on the pathway and didn't veer off towards the benches instead. Although he overtook easily once we rounded the lake edge and then fell into a rhythm on his beautifully sharpened calves. He was clearly in the zone, but holy crap it was boring.

Unless —

It was for time for chit chat.

Lauren style.

"Did I say Kelly and Brent are trying to have another baby? I mean, isn't that exciting?"

Dean grunted back,

"Yep."

Which okay, was hardly the best reaction ever, but was also pretty far from being the worst and so therefore I decided to forge on regardless. Well, in between panting for oxygen that was and trying to handle the horror that was boob sweat.

Seriously, being a woman was the _worst_.

"Oh And by the way, I invited them for dinner — um — Kelly and Brent I mean, which I hope is okay? I have a recipe for chicken marinade I want to try out and oh, uh, that reminds me, I have to stop by the store because I'm pretty sure I need a roll of tin foil and some lemons."

My husband shot a look at me,

"Lauren — ,"

"Ugh _fine_, I'll shut up, but for your information _running you_ is really grumpy and I'm not sure I like him."

Dean blew out a snort and then tried to bite a smile down before regrouping his concentration and getting back into his zone. He had slowed down a little so that I could keep pace with him, but he was still going _professional athlete _levels of fast and so I quickly began to get tired and crampy.

Plus, you know, boob sweat.

I let out a wheeze,

"Dean? Um, I know I just promised I would shut up for a second, but, uh, I think I'm going to maybe take a little break, because I _may _be having a teeny tiny heart attack or — ooh crap, stitch — but _ouch_, you go on ahead."

Was it bad that my vision had gone all sort of patchy?

Figuring yes I stumbled over to a bench, which someone in my hometown planning department had seen fit to install at scenic points around the lake, for picnicking couples or photographers or fishermen and wrestling commentators who were super unfit.

"Hey, Princess, you okay?"

I made a circle with my fingers,

"Super good, go,"

I prodded him as he sat down but he caught hold of my hand and then pulled me towards him with a shake of his head,

"Nope, not without my girl, an' besides, I think we _both_ know the fuckin' _second_ I left here you would probably be eaten by like, a freakin' bear, or get hauled into the lake by a giant squid or somethin'."

"Giant squid?" I giggled,

"Could happen."

"Not here," I shook my head and then tucked my sneakers up onto the bench beside me as I snuggled a little headrest in under his arm, relishing the manly blend of sweat scent and aftershave, "But there _was_ this rumour that went around one time that someone had seen a Loch Ness Monster type thing and so for about six weeks the whole place went crazy. I mean, I think the national news even turned up at one point, but then it turned out it had all been invented because the guy who ran the boat trips wanted more people to come."

Dean snorted,

"Yeah well, I guess that fuckin' figures."

"You mean about the boat trips?"

"I mean about _all _of it," he waved his hand towards the lake and the trees beyond it, "Like, this whole place an' how cute an' _safe_ life is here, with your Loch Ness Monsters and your whole apple pie shit."

I hummed super fondly,

"I guess it _is_ great huh?"

"Better than Vegas?"

I blinked.

Oooh that was a tough one, considering that the bright lights and desert peaks of Nevada were a million billion miles from my countrified hometown, with its rolling hills and its trees and its autumn colors and of _course_, not forgetting the never ending fields of cows. Besides which, in Wisconsin I still felt closest to my mother, simply because it was where she had always been and where the two of us had been together as a family. But Las Vegas was where I had made my home with Dean and where our dog was and where I had felt so loved and protected back when Bray had been pulling his _Mockingbird _thing.

Both places were my home. But maybe Wisconsin a little more though?

"Not better, they're just _different_," I offered back clumsily, hoping I sounded convincing enough before suddenly frowning, "Wait, why are you asking?"

He shrugged at me,

"Been thinkin' we should maybe buy a house."

"Where?"

"Here."

"_Here_?"

Desnuggling from his shoulder I sprang back up in a messy haired pop and possibly levered myself upright on his package considering that he also let out a little grunt.

I blinked at him in panic,

"But, we already _have_ a house, or — oh — do you not like staying at my mom's? Because I get that it must be a little kind of _weird_ for you, what with her bedroom being right across the hall and all of her stuff being scattered around and everything and, I mean, sure I _have_ thought of selling up, but I'm not sure I could because I have too many memories and — ,"

Dean cupped my cheeks,

"Princess, hit the freakin' brakes, because who mentioned anythin' 'bout havin' to sell up here?"

"But you said – ,"

"I _said_ that maybe we should buy a house, not that we needed to sell the one we got here."

"But why would we need _two_ houses in my hometown?"

He shrugged,

"So we can move out here full time or whatever?"

"So we can _what_?"

I gaped at him open mouthed for what was either a minute or an hour since frankly it was kind of impossible to tell. Because was he seriously suggesting that we should move out of Vegas and relocate home to _Wisconsin_ instead? Clearing my throat, I tried to be cool about it, but who the hell was I kidding?

"Did you say move _here_?"

Dean shrugged again, clearly going for the record,

"I mean, why not? You got everythin' here, an' besides I could start sleepin' easier on the weekends when I have to freakin' leave you alone by yourself, since you got like Kelly an' Brent an' Lucy out here instead of the fuckin' crime spree we got goin' on back home."

Okay, so maybe he had a point on the burglaries, but I frowned at him regardless,

"We leave our dog sitter all alone, our sweet _elderly_ dog sitter and that never bothers you."

"Because our _elderly dog sitter_ never got kidnapped by her old man, _or_ forced into a freakin' shotgun wedding by some asshole, _or_ dragged away by a hillbilly cult."

I nodded,

"Good point, carry on with what you were saying."

Lifting up a hand he began to scratch at his shoulder, which was a super cute nervous little habit that he had, but which only cropped up when he was seriously fractious. Like, when he was waiting in the ring to kill his brother, or evidently when _sort of _asking his own wife to move in. Biting a giddy grin back I took the itching over for him and his muscles seemed to loosen.

But he was still on the _moving_ thing,

"I mean, I figure this is a good place for kids to grow up in. Compared to where I'm from it's like _Stepford_ you know? Plus it has fresh air an' good schools an' all that shit."

I stopped scratching instantly,

Did he say schools?

"Dean — ,"

He blinked at me,

"What? You're meant to think about all that crap when you're thinkin' of possibly switchin' towns, right? An' I mean, not that you an' me are gonna have kids tomorrow, because first I gotta stab Rollins in the eyes, an' you got your whole _first woman on commentary_ thing going, but I figure that like _someday_ — ,"

I cut him off with a sudden kiss, which was usually his way of stopping _me_ chatting, but also worked pretty well the other way around since he grunted a little,

"Fuck. What the frick was _that_ for?"

I grinned,

"You were rambling."

"How _dare_ you," he recoiled, "For your information here, I do not ramble, _you_ fuckin' ramble, you're like the ramblin' queen — ,"

"You're rambling now," I pointed out helpfully, which my husband replied to by lifting up a brow and then giving me a look which made my whole body shiver, but in a good way.

"I'll show _you_ ramblin' kid."

Pushing me back suddenly so I was laid across the bench slats, he scrambled up over me and then caught me in a kiss, which turned out to be a whole lot hotter than the first one, or maybe like we had been parted for months and were meeting on the side of a dockyard or something, or else at the end of an epic romantic film.

I giggled at him,

"Careful, we might not be _allowed_ to move here if we get caught being all _sexual_ like this."

"So how 'bout we give folks a real freakin' show then?"

Poking his tongue out he started to move his hips round, in what was a teasing but very obvious dry hump and in response to which I squealed then tried to bat him back off me, but giggling the whole time like a teenager.

"Ahem — ,"

Ooh crap.

We both popped back up like naughty children as someone suddenly rounded the bend, with a chow chow in tow and an unimpressed expression.

Dean nodded brightly,

"Uh, hey there man. Real nice mornin' for gettin' out in nature."

Chow chow guy ignored him, which was probably best given how it had looked and the fact my hair was tousled and that my cheeks had turned a very violent shade of red. He pulled on the dog leash and carried on past us as I groaned and let my head fall into my hands,

Dean grinned,

"Oh yeah, m' gonna like livin' here."

"Oh god. Is it too late for me to vote to stay in Vegas?"

He kissed me,

"Yep. Sorry Princess, it is."

Beyond us a breeze blew out over the water and carried across to the far side of the lake, where the backyards of the most expensive houses in my hometown sloped down the hillside and then tipped off the banks. I had spent pretty much my whole life looking at them and fantasizing about one day maybe even _owning_ one. Maybe now I could, if we really _were_ moving.

I bit my lip,

"Dean, are you — I mean, are you serious? Because, it's just — Las Vegas is your _home_. I mean, you pretty much hand picked it and everything, so if you wanted to stay that — that would be okay too."

He grinned at me,

"Nah, I mean, thanks for the offer beautiful, but it kinda feels like it might be the right time to move on. Besides, I got a wife an' a goofy ass dog now, so those two are gonna always — fuckin' _always_ — come first."

I pecked him,

"Ugh, I love you so much you big idiot."

"Right back at 'cha wife."

I kissed him again and then kept my lips there as I blinked a brace of tears back, since the last thing I wanted was to make him concerned, or confuse him with the complexity of women and hormones and emotions and everything else in between. But it was true though, I loved him so much it nearly hurt me, like someone had sucker punched me in between the ribs. Because how in the world had I managed to get so lucky and find a man that _got_ me and loved all of my quirks and who built me a real life campsite for no reason and wanted nothing in return except an early morning run?

Ooh crap. Our run.

I scrambled back away from him and then started to bounce up and down on the spot, which clearly confused him,

"Okay, _now_ what are you doin'?"

I shrugged,

"I thought you wanted to go for a run? So what are we doing sitting here like a pair of lemons? Lemons. Oooh, that reminds me, I still need some for the marinade."

"Lauren — ,"

"Nope, running here."

I skittered away from him and then bounced my way round to the back of the bench, before leaning in over it and blowing on his neckline like the overgrown child that I evidently was and then whispering in what I hoped were my most seductive tones at him,

"First one back to the house picks a page from the book,"

His head sprang up at _that_ part,

"The fuck now?"

But it was too late. I was already gone, or well, not _gone_ gone but definitely ahead of him and laughing pretty proudly too,

"Ready, set, go."

I heard him bark out a curse from behind me, but focussed on the boardwalk and keeping my pace, because even though we both knew he was totally going to catch me, I was kind of enjoying the thrill of the chase and that for once _I_ had managed to be the super sneaky one. But damn it, I could hear him coming in fast and so spun around the corner with a breathless little squeak noise and then looked over my shoulder to see where he was, which turned out to be a pretty rookie running error. The guy with the chow chow was standing right in my path, with the dog leash stretched out lengthways across the boardwalk.

I vaulted it.

No really. I launched full over it, which seemed to surprise everyone, including _me_ frankly.

_Ha_.

Who was trouble now, huh?

My feet hit the ground and I was moments away from moving into a victory dance when suddenly my bad ankle bailed on me again and with a cracking noise that sounded so much worse than the last time.

_Pain_.

Oooh crap, oooh yep. There was pain.

"Lauren?" I heard Dean shout from behind me, but he was too far away to help me break the fall and so I bit the dirt hard on my palms and my kneecaps, like a toppling building and with whistling in my ears. It drowned out the birdsong and the lapping of the water and the chow chow barking in surprise at the trip and it _also_ drowned out the buzzing of my cell phone as a message pinged in.

_I still love you._

_Unknown. _

* * *

**I know, I know, poor Lauren (and yes it is possible to be this clumsy/chaotic...speaking from personal experience) But you'll thank me next chapter when you get worried, barking Dean causing a scene in the doctor's waiting room...see you there!**


	5. Carry Me Home

**I love Lauren in this chapter, she was so much fun to write!**

**xXBalorBabeXx, Don't worry, our girl is pretty tough. Well, sort of…okay, maybe not. But on the plus side she has Dean there to make her feel better, so every cloud!**

**Labinnacslove, She is a real klutz! As for it being Andy blowing up her phone…hmmm, well, I'm not going to say anything at this point, but the mystery is definitely going to continue!**

**Moxley Gal1, Agreed, Andy was acting a little bit weird. Maybe there's a reason for that… The text messages are definitely going to become more of an issue and people are going to find out, but maybe not the people you would expect!**

**Wolfgirl2013, The question of who is stalking her in going to go on for a while. Lauren is going to have her suspicions, but will they be right?**

**Rebel8954, I'm not sure who's going to be more traumatized, the chow chow, the owner or Lauren? Although, in this chapter, Lauren is going to traumatize a whole other batch of people (accidentally, because, of course!)**

**Mandy, Hope you are feeling a bit better this week and things are going your way! Here is barking Dean as promised. He's so cute when he's frazzled and worried for our girl! Yep, Dean is thinking long term now, with kids etc. He's growing up!**

**Skovko, Well, we all know Dean loves nature and hates traffic. Plus, with the way Lauren finds trouble he needs her to be in the safest place on earth when he's away, which ain't Vegas (or really anywhere with her, but hey, he can try!)**

**Phoenix lord of rebirth, Aww, thank you so much! As a newer reader I'm always really interested in how you're finding this crazy couple. I love writing vulnerable, protected-by-Roman-and-Seth Dean stories, but occasionally I have a hankering for him being all protective and badass himself. These are those stories!**

**Minnie1015, He is the best husband. It's official! There is some heat in this story, don't worry, I just didn't manage to get in any proper sexy time sessions. Just written a really hot one (I hope) for the next story though, so they're not gone forever. They're just on hold while the crazy happens!**

**Frantic Dean in 3...2…1…**

* * *

**Carry Me Home**

Because he was holding me in his arms super romantically, Dean had no hands free to open the door and so ended up sort of _booting_ his way into the doctors, like the swaggering hero in some shoot 'em up film. Which I guess _technically_ he was based on his turn in our recent movie.

A receptionist popped up from the desk at the cacophony, but only made it halfway through a startled w_hat in the world_, before being cut off by my no nonsense husband, who seemed to be in casualty clearing station mode,

"Okay, I gotta possible broken ankle here people, so m' gonna need you to show a little hustle, move, move, move."

There was a call bell on the desktop which he pinged with his elbow — presumably to make his point even more clear — and which bobbed me in his arms as he hit it a second time and then a third and a fourth like some high pitched background beat. The harried receptionist reached out and snatched it back again.

She sounded pissed too,

"Sir, you'll need to take a seat, because unfortunately right now all our doctors are busy, so will you have to wait patiently like everybody else."

"Oh _come_ on, these people look _fine_," Dean barked back at her, nodding his head towards the crowded waiting room, where a cluster of people were leafing through magazines and trying hard to pretend they weren't listening in, _or_ eyeballing the bulky man stood in his running clothes holding a woman only wearing one shoe and whose ankle was purple. But he was right about one thing, because everybody in there looked pretty healthy and fit, coughing aside and not including the old man in a wheelchair who was bent so far forward his head was butting his knees and who Dean clearly saw at the same moment I did since he then pulled a face, "I mean, 'cept maybe that guy, because _that_ guy is dead."

The receptionist slammed the bell down,

"Now you listen here mister smarty pants blue eyes," she was possibly also pointing a finger and so blinking through the pain burning up from my ankle, I winced guiltily towards her which made her gasp, "Lauren Hope?"

I waved back somewhat pathetically,

"Hi Rosie."

"The fuck is fuckin' Rosie?" Dean murmured in return, but luckily in a low enough sort of a grumble that _I_ was the only one who actually heard, since it probably would have been the last straw for Rosie, on top of the shouting and the busting in thing. Oh and when he had insulted the wheelchair bound patient, who was still kind of slumped.

Maybe he really _was_ dead?

Not that Rosie seemed especially bothered, since evidently her focus was squarely on me, as she rounded the desk with her long earrings swinging and her grey bangs shaking,

"Good heavens above, I mean, it must be a year or more since I saw you. What in the world have you been doing with yourself?"

I bit my lip,

"Um, I mean, it's _kind_ of a long story, but the short version is I went looking for my dad and — um — well, I mean, I guess the good news is I found him. But the bad news is I have an evil stepmom, who tried to run me over with a truck accidentally. Or at least that's what _she_ says but I've never been sure on that and _then _there was this thing with a hillbilly stalker, so yeah, I mean, it's kind of been a long year."

Rosie blinked back at me,

"I was talking about your injury."

"Oh."

To make it clear she then pointed at my foot and we all turned to look at the purple colored swelling that occupied the space where my ankle bone was. Or _had_ been, since it honestly felt like it was broken and shattered beyond repair.

I blushed and cleared my throat,

"Oh right _that_. I fell over when I was running,"

"Fell over huh?"

"Yep."

"I see," Rosie looked at Dean, which I couldn't blame her for because he _was _super handsome, with his height and his muscles and his Vegas kissed skin. But surprisingly instead of swooning helplessly in front of him she flapped a hand instead, "Yes, well thank you, but you can go, best let the professionals take it from here boy."

He pulled a face back at her,

"Boy?"

"It was nice of you to stop, but the doctors will look after her, so put the girl down now."

"Are you _kiddin'_ me?"

Okay, so that was a turn up for the books, because evidently she thought Dean was some passing Samaritan who had happened to be jogging his super pretty ass by and had stopped to scoop my crumpled form off the pathway before I got run over by someone on a bike. Or else peed on by a dog.

"Um," I hurried to correct her, "Dean is my husband, we were married ten weeks ago and uh, Dean this is Rosie, she taught me piano."

He blinked,

"You play piano?"

She blinked,

"This is your _husband_?"

Frankly it was a toss up as to who was more baffled, considering that both of them were pretty scrunch faced, like I had recently sprouted some sort of extra head, or something. I could have used an extra ankle. Oh, speaking of which. A bolt of pain lanced through my foot like it was being stabbed with thumbtacks and I grit my teeth instinctively and then whimpered,

"Ouch. Dean — ,"

But instead it was Rosie who took charge of the situation,

"Goodness, okay, well now don't just stand there husband. Uh, I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

"De — ,"

"Oh gracious, never mind that. Look at the poor girl in obvious agony. You go get her settled in that room in the corner while I get one of the doctors to come and take a look," she flapped at us like she was trying to land aircraft, "Well what are you waiting for? An invitation from the pope?"

My husband clenched his jaw as she poked him in the shoulder and then shot me a look which briefly broke through the pain, since he looked a combination of tickled and bewildered which was totally cute.

"Alright, alright, geez."

Turning us around as Rosie went to find a doctor, Dean cut a path through the clustered waiting room and the unhappy patients who were now glaring at us and wondering how on earth we had managed to jump the queue. As we passed I tried to peer at the guy in the wheelchair, because if he _was_ dead I felt like someone should know, but thankfully he grunted and then nodded his head a bit. Dean grunted too, probably from carrying me, considering he had been playing my human chauffeur for quite a while now, but he still managed to shoulder the aside the exam room door and then carefully steered me through the framework before lowering me down onto the waiting doctors bed.

I thumbed his cheek lovingly,

"Hmmm, remind me to tip you for what has been a comfortable and _very_ smooth ride. Well I mean, except for the broken ankle, which — ooh crap — really hurts."

"Easy Princess, we're almost there."

Poking his tongue out with the obvious exertion, my husband extracted his arm from beneath my butt and then stripped off his hoodie top and balled it beneath my bruising, to save me from having to put it flat on the bed. It meant that he was just left in his mildly sweaty muscle shirt, which was A-Okay by me.

"Hey, how you feelin' wife? You need like, some water or another pillow or somethin'?"

I shook my head,

"No thank you."

"Fuckin' hate seein' you hurt," he grumbled as he reached out to brush a loose strand of hair my back, since in the chaos my ponytail had become an unholy mess, "Eats me up inside an' makes me all freakin' _twitchy_, like I gotta bunch of ants crawlin' over my skin."

To emphasize the point he began to scratch his shoulder and so I reached out and took his hand to trace his love line instead. Or what I hoped was his love line. I had no idea really, but it was certainly the deepest so had to be, right?

I chided him gently,

"Hey, no itching mister. Besides, it was probably my fault this time, because _technically_ I should have been looking where I was going."

"I still shoulda kicked his ass though."

"Whose?"

"The man with the dog," he shrugged, "Havin' the fuckin' leash strung out right across the path like that. I mean, what, does he think he like _owns_ the freakin' place?"

"Oooh no, oh ouch."

"Lauren?"

His head sprang up worriedly as I tried to move positions and then tweaked my stupid leg, which _then _tweaked my ankle in a chain reaction of _hurtyness_ which made me wrinkle my face up and bite hard on my lip.

"Easy baby," Dean pulled it back out again to stop me from splitting it then rubbed his thumb over the marks, "The whole trick with pain is tryin' to think about some other shit."

I winced.

Ooh crap _ouch_.

"What do you think about?"

He shrugged,

"Uh, like murderin' Seth Rollins for the most part, an' like pushin' freakin' thumbtacks into his eyes, or feedin' his junk to some hungry bears or somethin'. But m' not so sure that stuff is gonna work out well for you."

I blinked,

"I mean, I could give it a _try_ I guess?"

"Nope," he growled back, shaking his head, "Because one of us should probably be the cute one in this relationship, an' since I'm a wrestler who's tryin' to kill his brother, m' kinda thinkin' that person should probably be you. An' besides, m' gonna need that innocent little smile of yours to like, sweet talk a cop somewhere along the line. So you stick with thinkin' about rainbows an' puppies an' all that wholesome shit."

"How about pygmy goats?"

Dean snorted back at me,

"Hm, nice try Princess, but no matter _how_ many times you freakin' ask me, I am not signin' off on gettin' you a goat."

"_Pygmy_."

I stressed like I thought it would help things, or make a difference to his views on having farm animals as pets. Or frankly his views on having more pets in _general_ since he mostly thought we had enough with our one dog. I disagreed, but had been shot down repeatedly on just about every suggestion I had made and which had ranged from pigs through to fluffy house rabbits, not to mention a hamster, ooh and coi carp. Plus, given that I had recently fallen literally headfirst over one and possibly killed my ankle, I guessed that chow chows were also out. I hissed as my injury suddenly stabbed hot again,

"_Ugh_, stop hurting."

"Pick one."

"Huh?" I looked up with a frown, to find my husband holding his balled fists out like he was hiding something in them.

"C' mon, pick a freakin' hand."

"Um, this one?"

I tapped his knuckles on the right side and he grinned at me with a smirk that made my heart begin to pound, before uncurling his fingers and nodding in approval then surging in to kiss me. I squeaked in surprise, but then let it happen before blinking in bewilderment when he finally pulled back,

"Um, what was in your other hand?" he opened it up and then leaned in to kiss my nose tip and I giggled in response, "Oooh yay, I made the right choice."

The door creaked,

"Oh goodness, I'm sorry to interrupt you," Rosie was stood on the threshold peering in, but some of the bluster had gone from her expression and she was actually smiling.

Oh god, how much had she seen?

Putting a hand out she rattled some pills at me and then held up a cup of water,

"The doctor said to give you these, he'll be through to see you in a couple of minutes but wanted to start you on some pain relief."

"'Bout freakin' time," Dean snorted back and I winced as I waited for Rosie to snap at him. But instead she simply nodded and then handed him the pills, based on which I guessed that she had witnessed the _which hand_ thing and had come to the conclusion she had judged Dean all wrong, "Hey Princess."

"Huh?"

He nodded at me,

"Down 'em."

I did as I was told and then handed back the cup, wondering if I should have asked what the pills were. Not that I minded just so long as they helped.

Rosie shook her head,

"My, you look _so_ much like her. Your mother was a wonderful person by the way and I was so very sorry to hear of her passing."

I swallowed down a lump and then nodded,

"Thank you."

Dean found my hand out and curled it in his bigger one and I latched onto it tightly and braced myself for more. But luckily at that moment somebody moved out in the waiting room and she bustled back out shouting and left us alone.

"Mr Arnwright, you get back in your wheelchair this instant. Or are you trying to fracture your _other_ hip as well?"

Dean snorted at me,

"Jesus, so she taught you piano, huh? They must have been fun lessons with her there screamin' like that."

"Huh?"

My head was beginning to feel a little fuzzy, which I guessed was the effects of the near _hour_ of constant pain, or the shock wearing off or the exhaustion or _something_ and so I squinted back up at him, which made him frown,

"Princess? Hey. You doin' okay there?"

"Um Dean, I feel weird."

"Weird _how_?"

My husband was blinking hard, which made his blue orbs sort of _pop_ beneath the halogens and reminded me of the nickname I had given him months back when I had met him in the rental place and known nothing about him beyond the fact that I had really liked his baby blues. And maybe his butt too, because I _was_ only human. Oh, wait, had he asked me something? I went to respond but then was roundly interrupted by the door swinging open and a middle man in a white coat walking in, pulling on some gloves and wasting no time evidently.

"So we have a suspected broken ankle, is that right?"

Broken ankle?

I snorted in measures of bewilderment then looked round for the person he was likely talking about before realizing he meant _me_. I had my broken ankle? Then I suddenly remembered the chow chow.

Oh, right.

Luckily Dean chose to fill in the blanks for him,

"Yeah, we were kinda out runnin' an' there was this jackass with a dog an' well, anyways, she landed pretty hard on her ankle an' it kind went over," he mimed me falling with his hand and the visual made me giggle.

"_Hmm_, you're funny and hot too. Super hot."

He blinked at me,

"The fuck?"

But luckily the doctor seemed not to hear me since he simply started prodding,

"Okay now, does this hurt?"

"My best friend is coming over for dinner tonight."

"What?"

The doctor looked up at me, blinking back in double time and with his face scrunched up like I had said something crazy, or possibly spoken in a language he didn't understand and so I slowed down my pace and then carried on talking,

"We travel a lot and don't see her much, so I thought a sit down meal might be a nice, ooh _and_ I'm going to masturbate a chicken."

"Excuse me?"

The spectacles nearly flew off his head as the baffled looking doctor snapped his eyes up towards me, which were nowhere _near_ as nice as Dean's were and besides that seemed strangely sort of horrified and bewildered, which I totally didn't get.

"What?"

"Marinate," Dean barked, butting in so suddenly that he startled me a little before trying to laugh it off, "She means marinate I swear to god, so no like, callin' the cops here or anythin'."

I pouted at him,

"I _said_ that,"

"Princess, I love you but shut up."

He whispered it from the corner of his mouth in husky rumble which resonated through me and did things _down there_, although I promptly forgot what those things were precisely, since the baffled looking doctor then abandoned my foot and instead moved up to shine a light at me which made me grumble a little bit, because holy crap was it bright.

He threw a look at Dean,

"Is she allergic to codeine? Because I started her off on a pretty low dose but she seems to be reacting."

My husband snorted,

"Yeah, she will do, because my girl here is like, freakin' whiter than snow, so I mean honestly, if you'd given her a stick of gum or a Tick Tack then there's a pretty good chance that she would still be like this."

I frowned,

"Hey."

Not that I knew _why_ I was frowning, but at the very least it seemed like a reasonable response and so I kept it up even as the doctor threw a look at me and then moved back to prodding my poor throbbing foot. It had gone mauve in the interim, with traces of inky blue in it which looked frankly looked all _kinds_ of cool, but still really hurt since I hissed at him at one point and then tried to pull my leg up,

"Easy Princess," Dean murmured back, tangling our hands and then kissing my forehead which made me relax.

_Hmmm_.

The doctor snapped off his gloves,

"Well the good news is I can't feel any breakages. Which isn't to say there's not a small one of course, but I think what we have here is a very bad sprain injury, so she'll need to keep off it and rest and recuperate, with perhaps a brace for exercise and analgesics of course. Uh, make that very very _mild_ analgesics, would you like me to write a script up?"

Dean shook his head,

"Nah, thanks doc, but we're kinda good on that side 'a things already. Got us a pretty full cabinet back home."

"Dean is a wrestler," I filled in for him helpfully, leaning forward like we were trading official secrets on a bench and probably in briefcases like they did in the movies, or possibly in real life for all I really knew.

The doctor raised a brow,

"Oh?"

"Uh huh," I nodded back at him, "He's good too, which is why his brother stamped on his head, because he's jealous. _Oh_ and also because he still loves him, but which is no excuse to basically _murder_ someone don't you think? I mean what the hell _was_ that? I really need to have words with him."

Dean coughed loudly,

"_Ho_, okay then. Uh, like, thanks for everythin' doc, but I should probably get her home an' put this one to bed now, you know, to sleep off the drugs. Come along Princess."

He grabbed my shoulders and then swivelled me towards him, which I followed at once before trying to hop off the bed. Dean stopped me though because — oh yeah — my ankle. Instead he scooped me up and pulled me into his chest and I responded by looping my arms around his neckline and then giggling as the doctor let us out into the waiting room.

"Do you mean put me to bed with _sexy time_?"

Dean gaped in horror,

"Lauren — ,"

"Because I love having sex with you and besides, you're really _really_ good at it, so I think we should have sex tonight."

Beyond us someone coughed and I looked up in puzzlement to find the waiting room staring back at us, including my piano teacher who was looking open mouthed. I waved to her cheerfully,

"Oh. Buh-bye Rosie, it was really nice to see you again and _oooh_, you should come and have dinner with us later, because I'm going home to masturbate a chicken for it now."

"Jesus Christ Lauren."

Dean swept me past all of them and then out through the doors to where our rental was parked, where he gently put me down so he could wrestle the keys loose. Wrestle, _ha_. See what I did there with that? Leaning back against the wing mirror I idly put my foot down, but then hissed and pulled it up again, because _ooh_ wow it hurt and peering towards it only served to make the pain worse, since for some reason my foot was purple.

I pointed at it,

"Dean, look. My — my ankle's all messed up."

"Yeah Princess, I kinda noticed," he snorted gruffly before tracking down the fob and opening doors. He softened a little though as he noted my confusion and then swept me up again, "C' mon crazy legs, how 'bout we getcha home? Sounds good, huh?"

Scooping me up again he slid me into the seat and then leaned in across me to snap my belt into the holster and so I took the opportunity to lean in and kiss him,

"Hello, hi."

"Lauren," he snorted, but so close it made me tremble, "Think you can sit there an' stay outta trouble for a while?"

"Yep."

To help reinforce that I make the scouts' honor gesture. Or at least what I _thought_ was the scouts' honor thing. My husband grunted but then kissed me on the nose tip, before swinging back out and shutting the door. Wait, why was he driving and not me? Oh, maybe the foot thing? My cell phone buzzed suddenly where it was tucked in my sports bra and I giggled at the sensation and then clumsily plucked it out, before blinking in surprise at the message staring back at me.

_I still love you. _

_Unknown._

Ugh —

I let a groan out.

Freaking _again_ with the uber clueless Romeo? Honestly men were pretty hopeless sometimes. Because no _way_ was the poor guy going to make a love connection when he kept on texting _me_ instead of the apple of his eye. In my painkiller hazed state I decided I should tell him and so hit the call button and held it up to my ear.

Ring-ring.

I launched right into my spiel when it connected, not even waiting for the poor man to speak, but which was fine since I wasn't really looking for conversation,

"Hello? Um, hellooo, I _think_ you have the wrong number, so no more love little texts to me buddy. Alright? Because for your information I'm a happily married woman so you're barking up the wrong tree _completely_. Hellooooo?"

"Princess," the drivers' side door clicked open suddenly and I started from where I was shouting into my phone, "Who the fuck are you talkin' to _now_, huh? Because I thought I said stay outta trouble for a while?"

I blinked at him,

"But — but I'm not causing trouble, I was talking to — oh wait — I think they might have hung up."

Dean snorted fondly,

"Not fuckin' surprised Princess, you're not exactly makin' a whole lotta sense now, but you're gonna be fine after you sleep it off, 'kay baby?"

He patted my knee and then fired up the car as I frowned at my cell phone and tried to figure my woolly head out and why the phone call had felt so weird and why there was a feeling in the pit of my stomach which I couldn't remember having been there before. Although it then became super clear later that evening when the next text came through.

_I still love you Lauren._

Oh holy crap.

* * *

**Yep, our girl is out here creating havoc again! Although drunk/drug addled Lauren is lots of fun! **

**Next week we're back in the wrestling world again, so expect more crazy!**


	6. Balking In Memphis

**New week, new chapter and even though recently I've been kind of bummed out about Dean leaving, the good news is, in these stories we're only in September 2014, so there's a whole lot of time still left to play with *buries head in the sand and pretends he has re-signed and that 2019 isn't the worst***

**Skovko, Haha, yeah, Lauren probably did go straight to bed. Or, you know, she did unspeakable things to a chicken and then served it for dinner and...yeah, she went to bed!**

**xXBalorBabeXx, I think one thing we have established at this point is that drunk/drugged Lauren gets very very handsy and wants herself some action. Always good fun!**

**Rebel8954, Oh wow, no offence to your poor niece, but that sounds hilarious! I've never been anaesthetised before and since I'm a chronic talker, god only knows what I would say. I break out in cold sweats just thinking about it!**

**Wolfgirl2013, Keep those guesses coming! But the big reveal isn't going to come for a while yet, so you've got time to stick with Randy or change your mind!**

**Labinnacslove, It's a good job Dean loves her, because our Lauren sure can be trouble/embarrassing at times!**

**Moxley Gal1, I'm afraid you'll just have to keep reading to find out the answers to those questions. But next chapter in particular someone else is going to find out!**

**Minnie1015, Drugged/drunk Lauren is the best. She's so innocent and pure...and also dirty! Yeah, Dean is not going to be impressed by anything happening in this story. But he's not going to find out for a little while yet. I have other plans!**

**Mandy, As ever, you're welcome for the fun in the last chapter. This chapter Dean is being his kickass wrestler self and I love it! Also, you'll definitely want to tune in to the next chapter, as I think you're going to like it a lot for one very important reason…**

**Phoenix lord of rebirth, Aww, I'm so glad you're still enjoying it. I love writing Lauren when she's drunk/ill and especially when Dean has to step up and take charge of things. I love me some sweet but exasperated Deano!**

**Back to the WWE...**

* * *

**Balking In Memphis**

"Good lord almighty, what happened to you kid?" JBL barked as I hobbled out towards the desk, to the backdrop of eleven thousand people cheering for me, which was actually pretty lovely since it maybe meant I had been missed? Not that I was someone who needed constant fanfare, like most of the roster and _especially_ Seth, but still, it made me feel kind of warm and _gooey_.

Like a freshly baked cookie.

I winced back at him,

"I fell."

"Into what, the path of a Mac truck or something?"

Rolling my eyes I shuffled into my spot and then wistfully thought back to the blissful few weeks previous where I _hadn't_ had to put up with him chirping in my ear and _feng shuing_ his stupid cowboy hat around the table.

I sat down with a huff and then winced.

Ouch. Sprained foot.

"Hilarious John, and hey, you cannot _believe_ how pleased I am that your legendary sense of humor didn't die while I was gone. Praise the lord."

Michael Cole smiled back fondly,

"Nice to have you back with us Lauren."

I grinned,

"Thanks."

Because bizarrely enough it _was_ nice to see the Colester, which was a nickname I was planning to try out at some point. Even though we had started as pretty much mortal enemies, in recent weeks there had been a pretty sizeable thaw, considering we shared a common foe in my father and the whole damn authority, who Dean was trying to take down and so therefore we were suddenly on the same page together.

He coughed awkwardly,

"But you know she's going to make me ask right?"

"Huh?"

He nodded haltingly towards my ankle, which was carefully padded and I let out a groan. Because by _she_ he meant Steph, the biggest bitch in the building, who liked to feed him lines or things to say throughout the show and who had no doubt seen me limping my way through gorilla like some sort of bald eagle. She would mention it for sure and then probably try and make out like Dean had somehow hurt me, or there was trouble in paradise because that was her thing. God forbid anyone should actually be _happy_. Not on her watch at least.

I nodded back at him,

"I know."

"Well can you blame her if she does?" JBL snorted loudly, butting his big head right into our chat, since subtlety had never exactly been his strong suit, "After what that crazy _husband_ of yours pulled last night?"

I grinned.

"Hmm, yeah, he _was_ pretty awesome."

My colleague gaped in horror,

"You call _that_ awesome? That goddamn lunatic stormed into a live pay per view and attacked Seth Rollins for no good reason."

I rolled my eyes,

"Um, except for Seth trying to _murder_ him five weeks back. But yeah. Okay. No good reason at all."

Reaching out I slipped on my headphones and then tried to bite back my ever growing grin, because even though I had been stuck watching Night of Champions in our hotel room in order not to rumble Dean popping back up, it had still been _sooo_ good to watch my husband beating Seth up and getting some retribution and taking on _seven_ guys. Honestly in thirteen months I had never been more proud of him. _Or_ more turned on. But that was a _whole_ other thing.

Plus him kicking ass was retribution for the Big Dog, since Roman was laid up with a hernia back home and so therefore had been forced into forfeiting the match up. In fact, him not being there was the only bad thing, since traveling with Roman was simply part of our universe.

But he would be back to help Dean kick some ass and when he did he would be better than ever. Believe that.

The lights dimmed around us.

_Showtime_.

I was especially excited because there was one name in particular typed in bold at the top of the programme sheets and I was stupidly excited to see him make his homecoming. But as usual it was Michael who opened up the show,

"Welcome to Monday Night Raw everybody, where Dean Ambrose the lunatic fringe is back."

Yay.

The familiar riff kicked in and the audience exploded and then nearly blew the struts out of the roof. Everyone seemed to have a Dean Ambrose banner and the sight of them cheering lit me up like Christmas lights, because that was my _husband_ and he deserved every bit of it for being so perfect and talented and _hot_.

Ugh —

_So_ hot in his cool leather jacket and his stupid baggy jeans and his muscle hugging black top and with his hair wet and pulled over his face to look menacing.

Jerry Lawler clearly agreed with my sentiments,

"Oh boy."

John Bradshaw Layfield on the other hand not so much though,

"Oh come on now people," he waved towards the ropes, which my husband had climbed through and was strutting beyond proudly. Although not before throwing a quick wink at me, "I mean security had to put cuffs on that nutcase for the safety of everyone in here last night."

I shrugged at him idly,

"Well, there's nothing wrong with handcuffs. If you use them correctly and have a safe word."

I was back.

The music died away but the crowd kept on screaming as my husband stood coolly and smirked back from the ring, before throwing his hands up and suddenly shouting in the raspy tones I loved and made me shiver.

"M' not dead."

Not that I needed a reminder of _that_ part, _or_ the image of his head being stomped into the blocks. But on the plus side at least it gave him plenty of material, which he then underlined by harshly knocking his own head.

"In fact, ever since what happened the last time you saw me, I've been a little messed up in the head. I've been replayin' it over an' over an' _over_ an' the more I think about it, the more I can kind of _appreciate_ it. I can appreciate the _creativity_ of gangin' up two on one on me an' makin' my wife watch as my head got stomped through cinder blocks. In _fact_, how about we take a look at the whole thing one more time?"

He pointed towards the screen and I bit my bottom lip and then refused to look as the moment was replayed for us, complete with me screaming in the background.

_Ugh_.

The cameras panned back to Dean in the present time, who twitched his shaggy head and then scratched his neck line, which was usually something he did when he was anxious or full of murderous rage,

"M' sorry baby," he growled, talking to me, or at least I sure _hoped_ he was, because for the most part that was a pet name he used only for me. I glanced up to find the sparky blue fixed on me, since clearly he knew how much the replay would hurt me _and_ being shown from twelve angles on the _titantron_.

He winked then spun away again,

_God_ he was badass.

"But I mean, I gotta admit though m' actually kinda _flattered_ that The Authority would go to such lengths to get rid 'a me. Kinda makes me feel all _special_."

"Moron," I muttered fondly under my breath, before remembering with a blush that I was back on commentary and so therefore miked for sound to pretty much the whole world.

_Oops_.

Meanwhile my husband built to a husky bellow,

"But m' not dead, an' m' not satisfied an' I can hold a grudge, an' m' sick of The Authority protectin' their little golden child. In fact, m' kinda gettin' sick of The Authority altogether an' so tonight, _m'_ gonna be the authority here an' I am not leavin' this ring 'til I get my hands on Seth Rollins, because I never get tired of punchin' his face."

_Boom_.

Dean tossed the microphone to the cheers of the arena and then rolled out of the ring and stalked over to the desk, where he caught me up in one hell of a lip lock which I hummed into happily as my colleagues barked,

"Good lord."

"Whoa guys, it's a family show here, remember?"

"What in the world — ,"

Dean happily chose to ignore them all and then broke the smooch only when he was ready, which left me sort of blinking after him like a pile of lovestruck mush. Throwing the time keeper out of his position, my husband took a chair and threw it back into the ring, where he settled himself down to wait for my father, with one leg across his knees and his arms behind his head.

JBL frowned,

"Is he staging a _sit-in_? I told you he was a lunatic. Hey now, what in the hell — ,"

The last part of the sentence was directed out my way as I snatched his precious Stetson from up off the desk and then put it on my head before blinking back innocently,

"What? Oh, you mean _this_? I was just checking to see if my evil stepmother was somehow brainwashing you through the hat, but I'm not getting anything so you're probably good on that one. So _now_ I'm thinking maybe some sort of mind control perhaps?"

"Gimme that."

He snatched it back and was busy brushing out the creases when an unwanted rattling noise burst out above the crowd, who had been in the process of chanting for my husband.

Ugh.

John Cena.

Someone _else_ I hadn't missed and looking as lurid and color blind as ever in a shade of bright red that he had matched with a hat and which gave him the appearance of a sunburnt tomato. Dean blinked back briefly, but then clambered to his feet as the action figure come to life swaggered in through the ring ropes and then began to pace like a tiger in a cage. How was it even _possible_ to be more amped up than Dean was? Well, Cena had managed it.

"M' gonna be honest with you John," my husband started coolly, refolding the chair up like he was thinking of using it, but kicking it back out instead.

Darn.

Not that I wanted him to hurt John Cena obviously. Well, not irreparably.

Dean carried on,

"I'm really bothered by the fact that you're stood out in the ring right now. I mean, you're flyin' _real_ close to a plane here brother. Don't give me a reason to not like you."

Besides the clothes.

But _ooh_ I got chills because holy crap he was handsome and dangerous and unpredictable and um, okay, not blinking, which was totally cool.

I mean, at least on_ him_ it was.

"_Ahh_ Mister Ambrose," Cena offered back loudly and still with the whole bizarre sort of _pacing_ thing, "What an unfortunate turn of events here, because you see, you and I have a similar plan. Last night at Night of Champions, I had Brock Lesnar beaten, until that rubber suit wearing jackass Seth Rollins showed up."

I snorted,

"Oh yeah, because that's totally as terrible as nearly being murdered."

I mean who did Cena think he was to be comparing losing out on getting a title with my man getting his head stomped through a pile of cinder blocks?

My cell phone buzzed and I glanced down at it briefly to find a bolstering message from Kel. Or okay, not bolstering, more like stating the obvious, but it at least made me smile.

_Dean looks hot tonight_.

He did.

Besides which I was relieved that it was simply from my bestie and not the unknown sender I had hastily blocked the second I had seen the _I love you Lauren_ message which had sent shivers through me. I hadn't told Dean and — okay, okay — I had promised no secrets, but I knew without a doubt the creepy messages were Randy, based, or were Stephanie's brainchild or maybe even from _Seth_, since I frankly had no _clue_ where his head was at recently. But it wasn't going to work.

I was protecting my man.

I blinked into the present as John Cena went loco and started to bellow.

"So tonight, I'm cashing in. I'm cashing in my ass kicking in the bank contract on Seth Rollins and _nobody_ is going to stand in my way."

_Ooooh_.

Dean put a hand out and tapped him on the shoulder, which was kind of like a red rag to a bull. Except Cena was in red, so then what did that make him? The bull still or not?

Okay, I was confused.

Dean not so much.

"I warned you once not to get in my way John."

In response Cena ripped his lurid baseball cap off and threw it like a frisbee into the audience, while Dean dropped his microphone, which promised a fight, because god forbid wrestlers should ever talk through their problems. Lawler also seemed concerned.

"Whoa, wait a minute now, I think cooler heads should prevail here."

"No they shouldn't, let 'em fight."

I rolled my eyes.

Trust JBL to be the voice of _non_-reason.

Back in the ring Cena stripped off his t-shirt, to reveal his massive pecs, which left me stone cold. But then Dean took off his jacket and my ovaries exploded. Yep. That was my man. Every wiry inch. Really I felt pretty hellaciously proud of him, but it faded in a heartbeat as the arena turned lime green and the strains of a gravelly entrance music rang out.

Oh crap and double crap.

It was my father and his hounds. Because, sure enough, they all trooped out after him. Kane, Randy, Stephanie and last of all Seth, holding his stupidly precious briefcase. Although JBL seemed pleased to see him,

"Look who's bringing up the rear,"

"The man of the hour," Michael Cole shot back more snarkily, "Who caused the whole entire issue last night."

The big Texan snorted,

"He must be an important person if everybody out here wants a piece of him tonight."

My father waited for the booing to die down a bit and then smirked before raising the microphone up and in response I swallowed down a quick ball of nausea over the fact I had once willingly called the man _dad_.

"Relax," he ground out, "Before you two break into a pinch fight over something in which you have zero control. Kind of how _I_ had no control when you married my daughter. How're you doing sweetheart?"

He waggled fingers at me and in response I scowled back and tried to look fearsome.

Ugh.

How had we been family only ten months before? Helping them hang up tree baubles Christmas and having girly chats with Steph over hot cocoa like friends?

Dean stiffened instinctively in super protective warning and my father continued,

_Asshole_.

"You both want to have a piece of Seth, but that is simply not going to happen," the crowd made it clear what they thought about _that_ and I grinned at the booing which was the least he deserved honestly, "Seth Rollins is not going to be fighting anyone tonight, but _you_ two, on the other hand, definitely will be, which is therefore why tonight — ,"

He was building to a pitch, which was probably some totally bullcrap handicap match, or a twelve on one hustling since that was totally his thing. Surprisingly though, John Cena interrupted him.

Um, go John?

"Heh. No, no, no. That's not going to happen, because I'm gonna get him myself," he slid out of the ring and the audience exploded at the promise of action and then again as Dean joined hot on his heels and then charged up the glowing ramp at my father.

Michael Cole went into overdrive,

"Oh look out. John Cena and Ambrose are going after The Authority."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa."

Meeting them, Seth swung the briefcase at Dean's head and I held my breath then watched my husband duck under it and pumped the air as he went for Randy instead.

"Yes, go get him and his stupid little tight trunks."

Because seriously, at this point did Randy even _own_ pants? Not that I wanted to dwell too on _that_ thought, or anything even _remotely_ resembling his crotch area. But on the plus side it was great to see Dean get retribution for all the crap the so called Viper had pulled.

Or pulled on _me _specifically.

"A melee in Memphis," Cole barked out hoarsely, as he tried to keep some sort of ongoing feed, "What a way to start things off on Raw tonight."

Leaving his briefcase as the fury overwhelmed him, Seth launched himself in desperation towards the ring, which worked out pretty badly since my husband merely followed him, flanked by John Cena like a pair of hunting hounds.

Jerry Lawler chuckled,

"Ho, ho, ho, they almost got him. Oh now look out, he's going through the crowd."

"Seth Rollins running away," Cole offered as, The Architect launched fully over the barricade. Dean hurdled after him,

"Has he got him? He got him!"

Lawler was basically bouncing up and down, looking about as pumped as I had probably ever seen him as we switched our attentions from real life towards the screens, where a probably stressed and heavily panting camera person had picked up the action and was following it backstage.

"Ambrose has Rollins, with John Cena in pursuit too, chaotic scenes here on Monday Raw tonight folks."

Seth broke free and then blitzed behind the titantron at which point all three of them disappeared from view and a frantic producer swung back to us on commentary to try and make some sense of what the hell was going on.

Uh, my husband was being totally amazing? _That_ was what was going on.

"Oh my gosh," Jerry laughed as back in the ring, my father, Randy, Kane and Stephanie all came in close and then began to look around, which frightened but at the same time actually kind of _pleased_ me, since it was nice to see _them_ on the back foot for once. But it was nerve-wracking being out there without Dean somewhere close to me, or without he or Roman putting himself in between me and then. Not that I thought they would hurt me too bad though, since I was the brand new commentary darling, handpicked by the boss.

But still, you never.

I shrank back into my seat a little.

"Well, Cena and Ambrose trying to get their hands on Rollins," Cole panted beside me, sounding breathless himself, "Right as Triple H was about to make a big announcement, but you can't blame them guys."

JBL spluttered,

"Yes you can. That Dean Ambrose is a certified lunatic who put innocent people in harm's' way last night."

Beyond us on the ramp, Steph scooped up the briefcase and I blew out a breath as they all trampled off, looking pissed off and totally bewildered but more importantly, heading _away_ from me.

_Yes_.

"Oh, wait, wait, wait — ,"

Jerry pointed to the titantron and okay, did he _only _speak in triplicate now?

Dean was on the monitors launching at Seth in the garages and pushing him backwards hard into a packing case. Cena turned up too and started trying to get in on it and in desperation Seth started to throw things their way,

Michael Cole snorted,

"Seth Rollins in big trouble,"

"Yeah, Seth Rollins is running for his life."

"Which is no less than he deserves," I reminded them succinctly, ignoring as beside me JBL rolled his eyes. I was too busy watching Seth tear down the rampway and throw himself into the nearest parked car, shoving aside a person who I assumed was the owner.

"Hey," Jerry barked, "He took that guy's car."

Dean launched in after him into the trunk area, but Seth floored the gas and took off at the speed of light, which threw my man back out holding little more than a suitcase. He threw it away in anger and then spun back into Cena's face.

JBL frowned,

"Hey, call the cops, or do _something_."

But instead Dean grinned and then nodded his head, like the two of them were sharing a moment of understanding and at which point the cameras cut back round to us.

Usually at that point the Colemeister — new _new_ nickname — would have given a roundup for those tuning in at home who were probably wondering what on earth they had bypassed by switching their screens on ten minutes too late. But instead I butted into shot grinning wildly.

"Hey folks and for those who are just tuning in tonight, you missed my husband being totally badass."

Lawler chuckled,

"So it looks like the lunatic fringe is back, huh?"

In response I nodded proudly,

"Yep, the lunatic fringe is back."

* * *

**Next chapter Lauren bumps into a certain someone and has things to say to him!**


	7. Brother, My Brother

**Okay, so even though Dean is leaving our tv screens and either taking 6 months off or going elsewhere or whatever (kind of love and hate dirt sheets at the same time) I still have Shield stories to pump out for you, so hopefully you'll keep on indulging me. I'll be here if you are! **

**Mandy, Oh no! Sorry to hear about the horrible phone call. Life is definitely sent to try us sometimes. But it makes it even better when the good times come round (as they do, eventually, if only briefly!) Business is definitely picking up in this story and I think you are going to like this chapter...I think you're going to like it a lot!**

**Wolfgirl2013, Hunter is still floating around in the background and still being a bad father/all round bad dude! **

**Minnie1015, I know! Dean, what have you done to us! But yeah, guess I'll hold out hope he's just taking the summer off and then coming back. I mean, that's possible right? The brotherhood will always love on in my writing though. They have no choice on that!**

**xXBalorBabeXx, Don't worry, Dean will always be here in my stories flying the company flag. Sucks about him leaving in real life, but thank god for YouTube and old match videos!**

**Skovko, Seth is back and yeah, Dean is not a happy bunny. Seth is going to have an interesting role in this story (well, interesting to me anyway, hopefully to you too!)**

**Phoenix lord of rebirth, Sooo glad you're still enjoying the ride. This chapter is one of my favourites. Hopefully you'll see why at the end. The mystery is going to deepen (but not without lots more sparky banter first!)**

**Here's Lauren...**

* * *

**Brother, My Brother**

To say that the rest of the taping that night was hectic would probably have been offensive to _genuinely_ hectic things. Like honey bees, or weddings, or children's birthday parties. Because the rest of the taping had been pretty much _insane_. Even by normal wrestling standards and ninety nine percent of which had been centred around Dean.

My husband had been like a literal man on fire. One minute chasing his brother into the parking lot, the next fighting Kane one on one in the ring and the _next_ behind hauled off by a million security and shut in a broom closet.

No _seriously_.

Dean had been thrown into and then _locked_ in a cupboard for trying to pretty much murder Seth backstage, which my evil bitch stepmother had — as usual — been the brains behind as she had stood and screamed orders.

"_Put him in there_."

Honestly I had spent the rest of the evening trying to figure out how to _MacGyver_ him loose and the plan for which had involved a trusty bobby pin and then using my feminine wiles on the guards. In essence, I was going to be a female Danny Ocean. Or at least I _would_ have been had Dean not got _himself_ loose and then popped back up to wreak havoc on The Authority as John Cena had been lined up for some cinder blocks of his own. It had been totally cool of course, because my husband simply _was_ cool, but one question remained —

"Dean, how did you get out?"

"Huh?" he frowned, looking back over his shoulder as we crossed the open parking lot of the only motel in town which still had a handful of rooms left available thanks some sort of cheerleading convention _and_ a beauty pageant taking place at the same time.

"How did you get out of the _cupboard_," I clarified as I pulled my little bag up the small flight of steps and tried to stop it tipping off altogether into a flowerbed come ashtray, which was nice.

He grinned at me,

"Sorry Princess, m' not allowed to tell ya, because you see us magicians got like, a pretty solid rule about not tellin' the audience how we pull the disappearin' act. I mean, that kinda shit can basically ruin the whole show, an' I _think_ you get taken to magic court or somethin'," winking he pulled on the creaky lobby door and then let me in ahead of him as I rolled my brown eyes up,

"Hmm. Nice try mister but you are _not_ a magician."

"How 'bout in the bedroom?"

"_Dean_."

He wiggled his brows and I bit on my lip to hold back a giggle as a woman at the reception desk in front of us looked up and then blew out a sigh and put down her novel, which was a copy of _Little Woman _that looked super well thumbed and also had a bunch of screwed up tissues scattered round it which she pushed off the counter.

I smiled at her,

"I know, I feel the same way when I get to the part where Beth dies."

Her face fell a mile,

"What?"

"When Beth dies," I chirped back, but this time punctuating the words super carefully and even pointing at the book in case she thought I was insane. Which evidently she did, but for very different reasons.

"I started it an hour ago. I've read twelve pages."

If looks could have killed then I would have been a blood smear, which actually the carpet _already_ had plenty of. Plus several large dried stains of unknown color which could have been anything from vomit to snot, or possibly something from lower down and less pleasant. Little wonder the place still had so many rooms left. Gaping in horror I gestured loosely towards the Kleenex.

"But I saw all the tissues and — ,"

"I have a _cold_."

"Oh."

To make matters worse the woman then sneezed violently and groped for one of the wadded up balls, which she stuffed up her nose still muttering darkly.

"So much for joining a book group."

I winced,

"Look, I really am sorry about the Beth thing. I mean, I love reading so I know how rough that was. Because if someone had told me when I was reading _The Great Gatsby_ that Jay gets murdered for no reason at all, then I probably would have never even bothered to finish it, so I totally understand."

There. All fixed.

The receptionist blinked back at me and then made a squeak noise, like a tea kettle super close to boiling over on the hob.

"The Great Gatsby?"

"Um — ,"

"That was next on the reading list."

She was about two seconds from throwing us out of there — or else possibly re-creating a literary killing of her own — but luckily at that point Dean clamped my mouth shut, before I could ruin the death of Lenny in _Of_ _Mice and Men_, or possibly even poor old Ginger from _Black Beauty_. The receptionist blinked momentarily at the movement but then clapped her eyes on my husband at last and the adorable little smirk which he reserved for sweet talking and basically being an irresistible ham.

He glanced at her nametag,

"Well hey there Linda. Dann, did anyone told you how _good_ you look tonight? No, I'm serious. Did you get a new haircut? Put a little schmutz on it? Style it all nice? Because whatever you did it is _workin_' for you girl."

Linda giggled,

"Well, I did use my rollers."

Dean snapped his fingers at her,

"Did I know or did I know?" then he leaned in over the desktop towards her like he was maybe about to pass state secrets on and she copied him instantly like putty in his fingers, "Linda, sweet cheeks, m' gonna level with you here, because me an' my girl, we really need someplace to stay tonight, an' I think _you_ might be the woman to help. So what d' ya say Doll?"

She clucked her tongue at him,

"Well, okay then, maybe this once. But consider yourselves lucky because this is our last room," she hooked up a key and then pushed it across the desk at us, as I smiled and tried to make up for the Beth thing. Oh and possibly _The Great Gatsby_ thing too.

"Thank you so much for squeezing us in Linda and I really am sorry about the book mix up earlier on. Well, mix ups _plural_ I should probably call it, but I'm just glad we can all move on."

By which I meant I _hoped_ we could, although when I looked up cheerfully I found Linda staring actual murderous daggers back, since obviously some mistakes were not worth forgiving. Did it seriously count for nothing I had been _trying_ to be nice? Dean turned towards me picking up on the tension and then prodded me in the direction of the elevator. It smelt like pee and —

Wait a second. Was _that_ was what the weird carpet stains were?

My husband coughed,

"How 'bout you go find the room huh? Like, make sure housekeepin' is done an' all that jazz, an' I can finish up all the paperwork down here an' then drag all our crap up there when I'm done."

"Um, is that your _not_ so subtle way of saying _my_ crap?"

"Do _I_ travel with hair straighteners?"

"No but you should."

Reaching up I ruffled his hair super teasingly, which was still all damp and sort of _slickened_ from the show but which was starting to dry in cute touselly patches that sort of make him look like he was fresh out of bed. Or possibly fresh out of the sports arena closet, but which still looked adorable no matter where it was from. Smirking in response he caught my wrist lightly then leaned in to give me a sweet little kiss, which I accepted before rocking back onto my boot heels to look at him.

"Is it me or did she overreact about the _Beth thing_? Because I'm pretty sure they even mentioned it on _Friends_ this one time and it's not like I told her anything crucial, like the part where Teddy and Amy getting married."

"They _what_?"

Linda popped up from behind the desk and oh _come_ _on_. How in the world was her hearing that good and besides, was she not supposed to be full of cold or something? Had it been too much to expect that her ears had been clogged up?

Dean shoved a key at me,

"Make a break for it Princess."

"Yep, good idea."

I hit the elevator at a run and then stabbed at the panel with the bottom of my blouse hem, since it looked kind of _sticky_ and generally unclean. In fact, that was the feel of the motel entirely, which I was pretty sure I had missed on the initial _Yelp_ reviews and so I stood ramrod straight as the metal doors slid shut on me, desperately trying not to touch anything, in case I picked up an errant spore of syphilis or a blob of hepatitis on the way up to our floor. Back at the desk I heard Dean resume his smooth talk, with lashings of _sweet cheeks_ and a Romanesque _baby doll_. I missed him already, which I knew was pathetic but I had never before been so totally in love, or even_ in_ love since Andy barely counted. Andy. I wondered how he and his new beau were then let out a curse as the elevator halted one floor below my stop. I flung my arms out and was still in a half crouched ninja position trying not to grab the rails when the doors opened up.

Someone snorted roughly,

"Oh you gotta be _kidding_ me?"

Their voice sounded sharp and irritatingly nasal and dropped right into the pit of my gut. Because yep, sure enough when I glanced hurriedly upwards, there was Seth Rollins in his crappy black suit.

I balled up my fists.

Ugh.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

"It's a motel Lauren. What do you think?"

He went to step in past me so I blocked the door stubbornly which — horrifically — meant touching the germy walls.

_Ick_.

I shook my head,

"Nope, I've got bad news for you scumbag, because it looks to me like _this_ elevator is full and besides which I _think_ they run a _no weasel _policy, so maybe you should consider just taking the stairs instead?"

In response to my smugness — which was admittedly pretty awesome — my turncoat former brother simply levelled back a glare and then pointed to the doors I was currently bracing and which were trying to shut on me and whisk me away. If I let go of them then Seth could totally have slipped past me, but if I kept up my blocking, then neither one of was going to go anywhere and besides which, my arms hurt.

Rollins smirked back at me.

"How long do you think you can keep _that_ pose up for?"

"As long as it takes."

He rolled his eyes,

"Fine."

Then suddenly he shot out a hand as if to hit me, which I flinched at bodily, expecting the worse, but instead bony fingers sort of poked at my ribcage and in response I bit out a ticklish scream and then dropped my hands. Seth was past me like a gunshot.

"Damn it Seth, get out of here."

I stamped my foot then pointed towards the doorway and in response he leaned back then started tapping at his phone,

"Heh, you know what? I think I'll stick where I am thanks."

God he was an asshole.

_Ding_.

The doors pinged behind us and then slowly started to inch their way shut and so I threw myself at them and then tried to wrench them open, which then worked super well for me.

"No, no, no — ,"

Yep.

They shut.

Blowing a breath out I slumped back against the handrail then remembered the potential herpes and launched suddenly back up, frantically trying to swipe off the molecules that I imagined were clinging to me or burrowing in through my threads. Seth snorted at me but kept his eyes on his cell phone.

"Gotta say Lauren I'm surprised to see you here. I mean, I thought Ambrose liked to keep you close twenty four seven, you know what with all the _kidnappings_ and everything. Oh and also that whole _fear of abandonment_ thing he has."

I gaped at the low blow.

"Uh, for your information my ass kicking husband is down in the lobby sweet talking the clerk, because unlike _you_ he knows how to treat people. Including backstabbing traitors like you. So if I were you Seth, I would get out on the next floor and then run for your life before he finds out you're here and beats you down for the _fourth_ time this evening."

Seth snorted,

"Please, I'm not scared of Ambrose."

"So is _that _why you literally hijacked a car earlier when you were running around backstage running for your life to get away? Because you certainly_ looked_ scared."

"It was two on one Lauren."

I blinked at him,

"_Ohhh_. I get it, okay. So kind of like when you and Kane ganged up on Dean then and stomped his head through that stack of cinder blocks? Did I thank you for that by the way? Because honestly, I had so much fun locking the doors and windows because Dean couldn't really remember who he was, or where he lived, or even what day it was? So really Seth, _thanks_," I shot him a super sarcastic double thumbs up and then loaded the gesture with as much snark as I could muster, which earned me a patented evil Rollins sneer,

"I told you to keep him away from me Lauren."

"I hate everything about you."

"Yeah well, _ditto_."

God we were kids and in a weird way it felt a little like the way things had been, back when the three of us had been out on the road and Seth and I had spent the whole time sort of sniping. When we weren't busy playing the yellow car game. Sometimes I really missed cheerfully punching him.

Punch him.

Oooh now _there_ was a thought.

Curling my fist up, I readied to hit him, going through the steps Dean had taught me in my head and then preparing to haul ass the second the doors open, but instead my cell phone buzzed and put me off.

Incoming text.

_Stop ignoring me Lauren_.

"No," I shouted at the screen in distress, before dropping it in horror like the thing had turned red hot, which sent it down onto the floor with a clatter, "Damn it _no_. _How_? _How_ are you doing this, I _blocked_ you remember. Leave me alone psycho."

"Lauren? Hey, what the hell is going on here?" Seth barked, snapping his fingers in my face, since clearly my ranting at an inanimate object was spooking him slightly. But wait a second, did he look _concerned_? He held his hands up still holding his cell phone.

His _cell _phone.

The one he had been texting on.

"_You_."

Pretty much before I even knew what was happening, I had crossed the space towards him in one super pissed stride, which sounds kind of cool, but then, we _were_ in an elevator so one stride was all it took.

_Focus for goodness sakes_.

In response to my look of unmitigated fury — or possible constipation, since it probably looked like that— Seth skittered backwards so that he bumped into the railing and in the confusion or my breakdown or whatever it was, I was able to swipe the cell out of his finger and then hold it up between us with the text he had been writing still flashing on the screen,

"Is this all one big sick twisted _joke_ to you? Trying to kill my husband and tormenting me with texts? Because I get that the four of us are enemies now or whatever, but even for _you_ this is pretty low Seth."

He blinked at me,

"What is?"

"_This_."

I waggled his cell phone and only then bothered to look at the thing and the fact that the recipient was clearly his mother and the fact that the message was all about the show and how he and Dean were still best buddies, which was certainly news to me.

"Hey, give me that," leaning in frantically he swiped it back from me and then hustled it down into the pocket of his slacks, before frowning at me as I blushed a minor storm up, "Going round grabbing peoples' cell phones like that. You and that lunatic of yours deserve each other and why in the hell do you keep talking about _texts_?"

I shook my head at him but stayed otherwise silent and in the pause we both peered as one towards my phone, which was still sitting sadly on the super germy gratings, probably ruining the personalized cover I had bought which had a picture of my puppy looking super cute on it. Seth looked at me and I blinked then looked back. I could see the cogs in his mind starting to gyrate but moved too slowly to beat him to the punch as he launched towards the ground and scooped it up.

I shrieked at him,

"Seth _no_. I _order_ you not to read those."

But yeah, not even _I_ had been expecting that to work and nor _did_ it since he simply put a weasel or palm out and put it on my head to hold me off as I tried to snatch it back. God it really _was_ like old times after all. Although his face fell pretty rapidly when he got to the messages, which surprised him enough that I could snatch my phone.

_Ha_.

He gaped in bewilderment,

"Jesus Christ Lauren. Have you — have you told anyone about this? And by anyone I'm talking about the cops, since I'm guessing that your god damn lunatic husband is already in the loop."

I winced,

"About that — ,"

"Hold up a second here. Do you mean to tell me you haven't told Dean?" I blinked in response to his look of incredulity, purely for his unnoticed slip up at the end, because honestly it had been months since he'd used anything but Ambrose and it solidified a theory I had been holding for a while, "Why in the hell would you not tell your husband? Because I'm pretty sure that this is kind of something he needs to know. God why do you always make everything so _difficult_?"

My mouth fell open,

_Me_?

"Seth, unless you forgot, my husband is currently in a beef with my birth father, who — by the way has a new thing for locking him up — and _oh yeah_, is kind of hellbent on murdering the brother who tried to obliterate his skull a month back. So forgive me for thinking that he _might_ be preoccupied."

"Murdering his _former_ brother."

"Is this you trying to help? Because honestly, if it is then you kind of suck at it. I mean even Bray Wyatt helps better than you do and he happens to be insane."

"Damn, alright," Seth held his hands up like he was facing down a grizzly but with a little more sass. Well, from _him_ at least, "Kinda missing the point here idiot, because what I was _saying_ was that you need to tell Dean, since if _my_ wife was being stalked then I would totally want a heads up."

I spluttered in levels of horror,

"Did you say _stalked_?"

"Uh huh, of course. Why? What would you call it?"

"Um, my evil bitch stepmother trying to ruin my life?"

"Wait, do you — do you think _Steph_ did this?"

He blinked at me a few times then threw his head back and laughed, which naturally did wonders for my levels of confidence and my general assumption. Because, he would know, right? Since he was basically the McMahon Helmsley Labrador or something and so if _anyone_ had the inside scoop it was him. Although first I had to wait for him to stop snorting at me.

Loved _that_ part.

"Lauren, hey trust me this is _not_ your stepmother."

"Well then maybe she told Randy to — ,"

"Nope," Seth stopped me with a pop, before pulling a face like he expected better from me. Although, in my defence, my head _was_ in a whirl, "Think about it Lauren, this is the _Authority_ we're talking here. This is freaking _Stephanie McMahon_. A woman who tried to run you over with a big rig your first month with us and who _then_ had you drugged and locked up for five days and you seriously think her latest scheme is text messages? I mean what is she now, a god damn fifteen year old girl?"

Fine so he had a point. But then again_ did_ he? Because maybe that was precisely what Steph _wanted_ me to think and besides, look who was playing the good little messenger.

"Do you really think I would trust a single word you ever said to me?"

"Why would I lie?"

"Ugh," I threw my hands up and then let out a groan which had been building since summer. Or pretty much from the moment he had visited me in the hospital hours after having whacked my head with a chair and which was _also_ when he told me he no longer cared about us, "Why would you have done _anything_ you've done recently? Like turning your back on us, trying to kill my husband, stepping in and saving me from getting married to Randy — ,"

"_What_?"

"I said getting married to Randy," I repeated, or, okay maybe more like bellowed in his ear so that he flapped his hand and then batted me backwards,

"Damn it Lauren. What I _meant_ was where did you get _that_ part of things from? Because no way in hell was I trying to save you. No one in the world has enough time to come save you from all the crazy shit and situations you get in. I swear you need a full time minder or something, or an internal GPS to stop you wandering off."

I blinked in confusion,

"But, you swung up the briefcase and stopped the pastor from saying we were husband and wife."

"For my _title shot _Lauren," Seth fired back hotly and with more of a sneer than I had heard him use all night, which included on the show when he had been shouting pretty loftily and barking at security to lock for my husband up, "I was trying to protect my run at the top. This is my time Lauren, my time to be the big man and so the last thing I needed was your family drama screwing that up."

"So you weren't trying to protect me?"

"Nope. Just my title shot.

To be honest his response kind of crushed me. A _lot_, which must have shown on my face since he blinked at me and then let out a frustrated sounding huff before stabbing at the panel to try and hurry the ride up. For a very brief moment when he'd been looking at the messages and urging me to tell Dean what was going on, he had seemed like, well _Seth_. Or at least the Seth he _had_ been. But either way though, he had _cared_ about me and the memory of that made me suddenly stubborn. Turning around I lit up all the buttons and then watched as his jaw hit the icky floor in shock, like an old time cartoon but without the slide whistle.

Dean would have got the reference. He loved his cartoons.

"Damn it woman. Have you gone completely psychotic?"

"Want to know what_ I_ think?"

Seth narrowed his eyes,

"I mean, at this point would it even _matter_ if I said no?"

"_I_ think," I continued, which answered his question and made it a _two birds one stone_ kind of a deal. He blew out a breath and rolled his eyes in long suffering which made me talk louder, "_I_ think you still care, which is why you were sending that text to your mom earlier about how you and Dean are still friends in real life. Because you wish it was true and you hate that it isn't. _Oooh_ which is probably why you stomped on Dean too, because pretty much _literally _trying to murder him is a hell of a lot easier than admitting you screwed up."

God I felt like _Poirot_ or something. Or someone less cerebral, like Jessica Fletcher perhaps? Because she _did_ have better hair relatively speaking and besides, who didn't love _Murder She Wrote_?

"Lauren."

"I'm right aren't I?"

Seth moved a little closer, but sort of_ too_ close so I was forced to skitter back and bump spine first into the finger marked handrail which was actually _sticky. _He was wearing his sneer, the one he saved for beatings and television tapings and honestly it made my blood kind of run cold, because this was _new_ Seth.

I didn't know_ new_ Seth.

Beneath us the elevator bobbed unhappily and then finally stopped, although god knew on which floor, thanks to me having stabbed the panel to buy time back, which had seemed like a brilliant idea back then. The doors pinged above us then grated open noisily, but all I could focus on was Seth blocking my path and leaning so close that we were practically chin to nose tip.

"Lauren, go tell your damn husband about those messages and then keep his crazy ass the hell away from me. Because the _next_ time I curb stomp his head into something, I'm going to make sure he _never_ gets up again,"

Then he sauntered straight out of the elevator and off down the hallway as casual as you like, leaving me behind him feeling anxious and shell shocked.

_Me_, being _stalked_?

Not a chance in hell.

Right?

* * *

**Aww, I kind of loved having Seth back. But don't worry, he'll pop up again and in the next Lauren and Dean story too, because trust me, I have plans for our evil boy in this series!**

**Next chapter Dean and Lauren spend some quality time together...wink wink...and Lauren tries to tell Dean what is happening.**

**Until then.**


	8. Gamblin' Man

****So since I'm sitting at home today not really doing anything (except writing) I thought I would get this chapter up good and early. Lauren is going to tell Dean what's going on...or at least she's going to _try_ and tell him...****

**xXBalorBabeXx, That's probably not a sentence you thought you would hear yourself saying, but I agree. She should listen to Seth and I mean, she's going to try, but Dean might have a few other ideas...**

**HannonsPen, Glad you liked the book club lady. Lauren is always trying to be nice and make new friends, but it just doesn't always work out her way. At least she does it with the best of intentions though. (She'll probably have to leave wearing a disguise when they check out!)**

**Wolfgirl2013, Seth does have a very good point. But is our girl going to listen?!**

**Mandy, Seth is your ex boy? What happened? But yeah, I love writing about Seth here. Trying to be a badass and pretend he doesn't care. But old habits die hard I guess. Sorry about your job, but you never know what's going to happen. You may fall into something that is perfect for you and losing that specific job will then seem like the best thing that ever happened. Even if it doesn't feel like it now. Life can be funny like that sometimes.**

**Moxley Gal1, No, Seth is going to keep it close to his chest for Lauren's sake. Although Stephanie is going to pop up next chapter and a bit later too. So don't count her out! As for Dean, well...**

**Skovko, Yep, Seth is definitely trying to kid himself more than anyone else at this point. But I kind of love him here, struggling between being old Seth and horrible new Seth. I'm hoping I can keep building on that until we reach a crescendo (next story? Maybe? Hmmm. I'm saying nothing). But yeah, Lauren knows the truth Seth!**

**Not-that-kinda-gurl, Aww, thank you! Dean and Lauren love you too!**

**Minnie1015, Well, it might not be full sexy time, but hopefully you like this chapter anyway, since it's still pretty hot (or at least, that's the idea!) Yep, Seth is going to be an interesting character in this story (and the next one) Keep your eye on him. I have plans!**

**Phoenix lord of rebirth**, **Seth is going to be 'developing' shall we say across this story and the next one, which I'm really enjoying doing. But yeah, snarky, being outsmarted and frustrated Seth is kind of my favourite. No one does weary exasperation like he does!**

**Time for Dean to find out? Welllll...**

* * *

**Gamblin' Man**

Because I had taken the grand tour of the hotel thanks to having ridden the elevator floor to floor, getting to our room took longer than expected. Though on the plus side I made it back without being nabbed and so therefore was prepared to take that as a success story.

No kidnappings for over four months.

Go me.

My phone began buzzing as I limped along the hallway and my heart froze up in sheer panic.

Oh crap.

Had my creepy unknown text sender decided to step things up a notch? Was the weirdo actually _calling _me now? The thought made me shudder then feel nauseous on instinct as I remembered the terminology Seth had used.

_Stalker_.

Ugh.

Because who in the world would ever think it was romantic to send weird creepy messages but not reveal who they were. Not to _mention_ without knowing if the other person was even interested — which as a happily married woman I most certainly was not — and so therefore it was probably just someone trying to spook me. Even though both my stepmother and former brother were out. Randy was not though. Seth could have sworn blind on it and I still wouldn't have trusted it not to be the hateful man. Because the baby oiled bastard was too slippery _not_ to be a suspect, besides which, trying to creep the _heck_ out of me was totally something he would think up as revenge, since his entire putrid mind was bitter and twisted.

I had mentioned how much I hated him —

Right?

Either way I was still busy trying to figure the whole mess as I turned the key and pushed into our room, whereupon I was welcomed by my beefcake of a husband lying topless on the bed and tightly clamped to his phone, which he then turned off and threw down as I blinked from the threshold.

Oh.

It had been _Dean_ who was making the call.

Blowing a thankful breath out I pushed the door shut behind me and then slid home the lock just to make extra sure, before turning myself towards the heavenly body and the frown framed below it,

"Princess, what took you so long?"

"Huh?"

"You had a five freakin' minute head start on me an' everythin', an' I get here to find no sign of my wife. I was gettin' ready to send a freakin' _search party_ out or somethin'."

I blinked,

"Oh — um — the elevator broke."

Luckily it was by no means a lie I was telling since the stupid thing _had _been the reason I was late. Except I left out the part where it had stopped on every floor _twice_ thanks to me having lit the whole panel up in a tense conversation with the turncoat brother who had tried to murder him two months before.

Instead I giggled,

"Hmm, I like you with your shirt off. You should never wear shirts again ever, okay?"

"Same for you and underwear."

"_Dean_."

"What?" he spread his hands at me and his smirk – and his _dimples_ – made something flutter inside. I bit back a grin and then sashayed towards the bedspread, hoping to look like a porn style seductress but ruining the move by clumsily kicking my shoes off, since I was worried that maybe I would leave dirt on the sheets, which as like most hotels was a pristine shade of ivory. It baffled me. Because who had thought white was a sensible choice, since it showed up everything and by which I meant _everything_.

Dean raised a brow at me,

"Uh, Princess — ,"

"Hey, no talkin' while I'm being seductive."

"Oh is _that_ what it is?" my husband grinned, "Because I'll be honest, from here that was _not_ comin' over."

"_Ugh_. My smoulder is wasted on you."

Sitting down huffily I tried to turn my back on him but was stopped by big finger pads seizing my wrist and then scooting my butt right around on the covers until I was blinking up into a devilish face.

Dean was blinking back at me but his face looked mischievous, like a kid who had tried to make a mud pie in the lounge and was unveiling the warzone he had left to his mother. Except darker and hungrier which made me bite on my lip.

"Dean — ,"

"There was a backdoor."

"There – what?"

"In the cupboard," he shrugged coolly, "_That_ was my big freakin' magic trick tonight. Hunter's freakin' goons locked me up in a closet that had another exit."

"Oh."

It wasn't exactly Houdiniesque, _or_ the MacGyver feat of genius I had imagined, but either way he had outsmarted my dad _and_ put the fear of god into Seth that evening, so I could probably live with him not _also_ being a wizard too.

Kind of.

Although on seeing my clear disappointment he loosened off a grin,

"But, hey, I mean, I do have _somethin'_ special I can show you."

"Is that right?"

"Yep."

Leaning over he hooked up a box which he tossed into the middle of the sheets between our kneecaps and which I blinked at mildly. I was looking at a deck of cards and even though I was not opposed to playing _Gin Rummy_, I had been hoping for a pastime of a more sexual pursuit.

"Um – ,"

"What 'cha thinkin' Princess?"

"You — you want to play poker?"

Dean laughed huskily then shook his head, like for some bizarre reason I had said something funny, or like he thought I was being too cute. It baffled me more though, because what else could we be doing beyond playing poker or building a card tower? Unless he really _had_ been practising a magic trick?

My husband reached over and emptied the box out, like some sort of sort of smooth wild western card sharp, which then immediately made me picture him wearing a Stetson, but not a big white one like JBL wore. In black and flat topped which would complement the gun belt he would wear super low on his sexy little hips.

"Princess? Hey, are you listenin' over there?"

"Hot cowboy — ,"

"Huh?"

I shook my head,

"Oops. Sorry, internal fantasy. What were you saying?"

Dean snapped the cards pretty smartly between his fingers then leaned over to hook up the collar of my blouse, which he used to beckon me closer towards him. Keen to obey him, I scooted my butt across, hauling most of the bedding along with me but not caring much as I ended up in front of his handsome face, which leaned in towards me and kissed me super sweetly before throwing in a tongue flicker that ran across my lip.

Yikes.

Less happily he followed _that_ move up by then sitting back, which I may have pouted at a bit. Smirking he put the cards face down before us and —

"Ooh. Solitaire?"

"Card foreplay,"

"Card _what_?" I blinked back, since to be honest nothing much about them seemed all that sexy. Well, except for the fact he wasn't wearing a shirt.

My eyes roamed hungrily over his body, tracing the lines of muscles and his baby smooth skin, turned warm hues by the Las Vegas sunshine. Not to mention the fact that everything was _chiselled _like my husband had been carved from a block of raw stone and the effect of which made me curl my toes beneath me .

Before remembering that I was trapping my bum ankle.

Ouch.

Dean smirked at me,

"How about we try an' even it up here an' you take _your_ top off so m' not freezin' on my own?"

"Hmm, I mean I _would_ but I forgot how the buttons work."

Dean moved closer,

"Better try an' fix that then."

Moving himself into a hands and knees position, my husband nuzzled his head between my breasts which made me squeal a little at the tickling sensation as he took one of the small pearl buttons between his teeth and then began to move his head backwards and forwards trying to hungrily pop it out from the hole. It wasn't going to work though, which I was seconds from telling him when suddenly there was a pull and my collar opened,

_Oh_.

Dean smirked proudly.

He was insultingly handsome and never more so than with his ridiculously boyish smile. He leaned in again and I pushed him back laughing,

"Okay mister, you made your point."

Loosening the rest of them I tried to peel my blouse off sexily, performing the move times slower than I usually would and throwing in a shimmy that made my breasts knock together, but seemed to have a positive impact on my man since he suddenly tried to surge hungrily towards me,

"Princess — ,"

"So now tell me how this card game works."

_Ha_.

Blowing a sigh out he pooled towards the bedsheets and then stretched himself nice and out long with his head propped up on the mildly bruised knuckles that he had probably hurt punching his brother in the face. Oh sorry. _Former_ brother.

He waved his hand,

"Pick a card."

"Okay."

Huh.

Maybe it _was _going to be a magic trick which was fine by me if it meant he lost his boxers in a sudden puff of smoke. I beamed to myself, then leaned forward and obediently plucked a card from the pile before turning it over and holding it out, because I still had no clue what was meant to be happening.

"Um, the ten of diamonds?"

Dean nodded,

"Massage."

"What?"

Reaching back over he plucked the card from my fingers and then tossed it behind his head so that it flew across the room, before bouncing off the wall and landing up behind the headboard, from which I figured that the cards were not the most important part but at the same time making a mental note of where it had fallen so that I could clean up and reunite the pack later on.

Meanwhile Dean decided to put me out of my misery,

"Okay Princess so the point of this thing here is that each card has its own sexy meaning."

"Like massage?"

"Yep an' the card number is how long you gotta do it for."

I blinked,

"Um, in minutes or in hours?"

"Seconds."

"Oh," I cleared my throat, "I mean, seconds, yep, I totally knew that."

Snorted at me fondly Dean rolled onto his front and then pillowed his head in the crook of an elbow before mumbling into the bedclothes,

"Princess, where's my massage?"

"Um are you _positive_ that this is how to play it?"

"The cards never lie."

"Fine."

I lowered down over his waist and then tried to pretend the chance to run my hands over him was _less_ thrilling for me than it was supposed to be for him, but which was totally hard because his was back was as hot as his front was, from his shoulder blades to the beautifully seductive sweep of his spine, which then tapered off beneath the brim of the boxers that traced his perfect butt which I then pinched between my thighs.

_Mmmm_.

Buns of steel.

Dean grunted beneath me as I began to move my fingers in over his skin, first pressing my tips into the dip above his boxers and then repeating the motion with the heel of my palm, which I then traced nice and firmly right up to his neck muscles before slowly starting to knead through the knots, completely overlooking that it was meant to be ten seconds and so then stopping pretty bluntly when I remembered.

"Oops, time's up."

My husband tried to protest,

"C' mon, no _way_ was that ten seconds. M' bein' cheated here."

"But I thought the cards never lied?"

Biting on the bottom of my lip to stop from laughing I leaned in over his shoulders to try and look at his face but was then thrown off in both the figurative _and_ literal senses by my clearly bitter husband suddenly bench pressing up, which pitched me from his spine and down onto the bedclothes with a squeak of surprise and then a blast from my lungs,

"Oof — ,"

Dean beamed back wickedly as I lay looking up at him, trying to brush the loose hair from my face and levelling the very best frown I could muster. Not that it worked. He simply hooked up another card,

"Okay Princess, looks like it might be your turn."

"So do I get a massage?"

"Depends."

He flipped over the card, but then turned it towards him so that he kept the face hidden which was bizarrely kind of hot since it built the suspense as I waited for him to tell me how much time had been handed and as I fantasized about where I wanted him to touch. Ooh, how about on my poor twisted ankle? Because _god_ could that ever use a good run. Dean looked up,

"Princess, I'll be honest, this one has, like pros _and_ cons because I picked up a spade — ,"

"Um, is that the pro part or the con part?"

"It means oral."

"Oooh."

That _had_ to be a pro and more to the point it obliterated my early fantasy which had simply been my husband sweetly kneading at my foot and replaced it instead with visions of throwing my head back and of moaning and clinging hard to the pristine white sheets. Which was probably why I was starting to tingle as he hit on the _con_ part,

"But like, only for one second because I picked an ace."

"What?"

Dean turned the card round as I blinked back in outrage, which sure enough, revealed the now much loathed ace of spades which I pouted at unhappily. I was _not _impressed with card foreplay and so I let him know bitterly.

"_Ugh_. This is no fun. I mean who even _told_ you about this game anyway?"

Dean scratched his neck,

"Uh — ,"

"Okay on second thoughts nevermind."

It was probably best that I never found out _that_ part, since I knew there had been a heavy period in his twenties where he had smoked and particularly boozed way too much and had also bounced from woman to woman who had evidently had all pretty much been one and the same. By which I meant loose moraled and less than fussy about partners, but one of whom had clearly known card foreplay games.

Yuck.

Dean moved closer in a crawl over the bed sheets that stopped beside my knees on which he placed warm hands and then parted slightly before starting to roll my skirt up, but keeping his blue eyes on my browns the whole time, in a way that made my heart start to pound in my ribcage and my toes curl up.

Ow.

Bum ankle. Holy crap.

"Hey. One second is plenty long enough baby, I mean, I _am_ a freakin' pro here remember?"

"Uh huh."

His broad hands continued to slid up over my thigh skin, pushing the material back as he went and hoping to help things I arched my spine for him and was rewarded by the hem brushing up over my butt, before being bunched together so that my panties were on show for him and so too was my excitement for the big one second of love.

"Oh Princess, _fuck_ — ,"

Dean parted my knees a second time but far wider than before thanks to the new lack of skirt. I let happen while sucking my lip in as he bent himself towards me with his teasing pre-sex look, which was so cute that it made my heart sputter in triple time as his mouth clamped in over my heavily throbbing spot. The touch of his tongue made me actually judder as it flickered out and tapped me and made me mumble his name, because, okay, so he truly _was _a love pro.

"Dean — ,"

"An' sorry baby, but your one second is up."

Blinking in bewilderment I watched him move back from me with an ear to ear snicker at the look on my face, which probably was a cross between a missing the last bus and a kid that was watching her favorite teddy being stomped, but which frankly felt _way_ worse because my body was _screaming_. Dean spread his hands,

"What can I say here, the — ,"

"Screw the cards."

Popping back up with such a sudden force of passion that I nearly bumped headlong into his chest, I snatched for the pack that was half buried between us then began to hunt through them pretty clumsily at best, while my proudly beaming husband sat back and smirked at me until I hit the one I wanted and then waved it in his face,

"Aha."

He blinked at me,

"Princess, m' not sure you get the rules here — ,"

"_Please_."

I pretty much whimpered it out and then batted my lashes and poked my bottom lip out and he sighed before suddenly launching my way and then throwing us both down onto the covers to he could kiss at my neck line. _This _was _proper_ foreplay. He rumbled beneath my ear lobe,

"You ready for me Princess?"

"_God_ yes."

Reaching up I teased my fingers through his hair then pulled him down closer for a lip to lip smooching which blocked out everything else in the room and not to mention all the problems of the wider world around us, which included the cards being squashed beneath my butt and the fact that an hour earlier I had been trapped in the elevator with a man who had tried to murder him before and perhaps, most importantly, that I had an evil stalker.

Instead I forgot all about them all.

Damn.

* * *

**Next week someone else finds out about the messages and Lauren has a long overdue catch up with a friend. See you there!**


	9. Brotherly Advice

**Here we are again folks. Wednesday night, which means more Lauren time! **

**xXBalorBabeXx, She does definitely need to tell Dean. Don't worry, he's going to find out eventually. But there's a bit more fun to be had before then!**

**Skovko, Dean being hot and annoying is definitely a problem. Although luckily it's a good kind of problem and Lauren doesn't seem to mind too much!**

**Mandy, You're always very welcome my love. My mum is doing okay. All clear but needs scans every six months just to make sure. Hopefully this chapter will be adorable too, although not for quite the same reasons!**

**Wolfgirl2013, Well, it's definitely not Dean, but other than that I'm not giving anything away because I want the reveal to be a surprise! (And also because I'm kind of cruel!)**

**Minnie1015, Haha. Glad you liked it. I figure that Dean would have picked up a few little tips of his own over the years...probably while drunk and with some random girl, but at least now he gets to try them out on Lauren. Another one for the sexy notebook I think!**

**Okay, who missed Roman?**

* * *

**Brotherly Advice**

"Okay, so basically I play a character whose father is in business with a bunch of crooked cops — ,"

Matty frowned back at me,

"Dean?"

"No, he plays the hero."

"Naturally."

He pulled a small white towel from the shelf and then handed it over to where I was busy folding them and building them slowly into a haphazard pile which would then hastily be chipped into once the cameras were turned on and the never ending conveyor belt of sweat plastered wrestlers stank up the halls. It really was a luxurious business.

"Okay, so then what?"

"They shoot my dad in the chest in the first five minutes of the film."

Matty hissed back at me in horror,

"Ooh, spoiler tab."

"Sorry, but I'm not in that part so — ,"

"Not important. I concur."

He waved his slender hand in a rolling over motion that he clearly intended to spur me on and I beamed in response and even shook my head momentarily because I liked when the two of us found the chance for a catch-up, even if it _was_ in the laundry room folding towels up like I had in the first few months that I had been working on the shows and back when _he_ had been my superior and not my work soulmate and much treasured friend.

_Huh_.

In twelve short months I had worked a _lot _of roles there, from carrying water bottles and sweaty towels back and forth, to hopping the barricades as a valet for the Shield boys before finally being tasked with talking my way through what was happening, which I was still pretty much spellbound had ever come my way.

"What happens then?"

"Um — ,"

"When is the love making?"

I bit my lip to hide the bubble of a chuckle that was trying its hardest to bust out loose, since frankly there were so many bizarre similarities between my two kooky best friends it seemed a shame that they had never properly met. Although at least I had the chance to make that right next week, because the company was finally rolling into my home state and only one hour from the town I had been born in, which meant that at last the two parts of my world could be combined. Matt and Kelly were made to be buddies only neither of them knew it. By which I meant knew it _yet_.

I shook my head,

"Sorry no sex scenes this time, but we share a pretty hot finale smooch if that helps?"

"Please tell me at _least_ there is sexual tension?"

"Lots and lots of it."

It was a point on which I felt confident promising since pretty much the whole movie — beyond the introductory killing scene and then the part that fleshed out the basic character of my hunky man — had simply been Dean and I together running through hallways and trying to slalom bullet fire as his traumatised cop persona tried to protect me from the men who had brutally murdered my father and needed to prevent us from rumbling their crooked scheme.

I remembered the near-kiss scene in the corridor and then shivered,

"Lots and lots and _lots _of sex vibes."

"Good."

For a second we fell into a comfortable silence not helped by the women who briskly stepped into the room then bustled about briefly behind us for a second, therefore killing our _sexual tension _talk. Although it had already moved on by the time she was finished since I had a brand new topic,

"Dean wants to move house."

"Oooh, where to?"

"Back to my hometown so I can have friends at the weekends."

"He is so cute."

I beamed back proudly because my man _was _a cutie, but beyond that I knew there was a second reason for the move, since in the previous few months there had been some break-ins in our neighborhood which had made him even twitchier about having to leave me on my own. Even _with_ our furry teddy bear of a rescue pooch to protect me. But my hometown _would_ be safer.

"He mentioned having kids."

"Well, I mean, that _is _the next step here, since you two have the house and the pet locked in already."

"Well, we have _a _house."

But if we moved lock stock and barrel then we would totally have to start that complex process for the second time, or maybe it was only the first time in essence, because while I might have moved _in _that was not that same thing and so therefore picking out our first marital home together would be new for the both of us.

Potentially hazardous too perhaps.

"What if we clash?"

"Huh?"

"I mean what if he wants modern and I want cosy and traditional?"

"Um, sweetie — ,"

"Or what if he wants the hills but I want the lake?"

Not that the last one was too much of a problem, since honestly I would have probably been perfectly happy perched up on a hill with the blue cool water blinking back up towards me and the town set way below us. But then that was not the point, since the _point_ was I felt like there had to be _something _to run interference on my happy moving mood and what else _could_ it be besides bickering with my husband?

Matty flicked me with a towel end and I squeaked at him,

"Hey — ouch."

"Sorry babe but you completely tuned out."

"Huh?"

"Dean of course mostly kisses you out of your daydreams, but frankly that was never an option for me here."

I blinked at him,

"Wow, okay. Should I be offended?"

My camp work bestie threw up his eyes and then scooped up the towel pile I had been busily creating before handing me half of them and prodding me back out towards the white washed halls.

"Sweetie you know if I woke up straight tomorrow then I would totally call you."

"Even before Lady Gaga or Beyonce?"

"Okay second."

"Then I'm still hurt."

Matty tried to slalom a packing crate of boxes and then blinked at me,

"Would _you_ say no to Queen Bey?"

"Um, would anyone?"

"I rest my case then."

Matty nodded back and in response I tried not to bust loose an unsexy chuckle, because I was suddenly sorry that my sex mad husband wasn't there, since hearing me talk about sleeping with a woman was the type of thing that most male fantasies were made of and therefore would have probably made him barricade us in a locker room for some impromptu love making.

_Mmm_.

I may have imagined it a bit, which is probably why I then walked into a pillar and pulled my ankle again,

"Oh god damn it. _Ow_."

"Honey?"

"I'm okay, I tweaked my sprain, but I'll live this time."

Generally speaking — well, up until that point —my injury had actually been healing up well, and I had been able to feel it knitting back up again like my body was thanking me for taking things easy and for not living at my usual one million miles an hour. Dean was probably liable for some of the credit though, since he had carried me through hotels, or to the bathroom, or to the car and especially in the first week after it had happened when he had basically treated me like an oriental hand painted vase.

"Do I even _want_ to know how that happened?"

"It was totally innocent."

"Uh huh, oh sure."

"I fell, but only because he mentioned us moving and I may have freaked out a little."

"Convenient."

"It's the truth."

Matty snorted but set up a pace once more as I nodded then carefully put the weight back on my foot, which protested mildly but not with the brutal knife pain and therefore made it seem like I would be okay to walk? Except possibly a little bit slower than we had been and with my incorrigible work bestie trying his hardest to make me laugh.

"Bet you two were at it like rabbits in the bushes."

"There was a man with a chow chow."

"Threesome huh?"

"_No_ — ,"

"Do furry animals turn you on?"

Rolling my eyes I mimed locking my lips up and then bumped the towel pile a little higher in my arms as the top three were starting to slope a little violently and no way could I have ever have picked them back up if they fell. Besides which my mind was then totally preoccupied by a bizarre sort of program I had seen a few months before, about people who liked to pretend they were animals and had full costumes made and liked to eat from bowls on the floor and sleep in pet beds, or in crates in the kitchen, which I watched in pure astonishment with my actual real-life pooch who had turned his head back and forth in a confusion that my own face had matched perfectly.

Matty carried on,

"Besides, I think we _both_ know that your husband is so laid back he would probably live in a box. So I'm pretty sure that Deano is going to be happy as long as _you_ are. So pick whatever house you want."

He had a point.

Dean probably _would _have lived contentedly in most places, since nearly everywhere was better than the place he had been raised, or the room he had rented back throughout developmental which I thankfully never seen but which had been explained, with the words _cockroaches_ and _boat_ _parts_ featuring so heavily that I had physically shuddered and then pushed back my food, because naturally he had launched into it when I had been inhaling a bowl of popcorn on one of our cosy romantic movie nights.

Ass.

But then the _plus_ side of the horror of some of the places he had lived in meant that he was happy with limited perks, like non broken roofs and a fully functioning kitchen and a wide king size bed and a total lack of bugs and so therefore whether that came in an uber modern format, or in a traditional cosy cottage made no nevermind to him.

I bit my lip.

Dean and I would be _house hunting_ and _crap_ it was so exciting that I could have bust out in song and possibly would have had my cell phone buzzed suddenly in the pocket of the floral dress I had picked out to throw on.

I panicked.

Oh crap. Was it my phantom _not_ stalker? Was he calling me again? Why wouldn't he just leave me alone?

I pushed the towels up onto a packing crate then plucked my handset loose.

_Roman Cell._

Oh thank the lord.

I pointed to the towels in an elaborate motion which thankfully Matt seemed to understand at once and then threw him a wave as I headed back up the hallway, because it seemed nearly impossible to have two conversations at once and also because it was nearly time for the taping, meaning that it was best I tried to slap on some makeup or at least _pretended_ to be a variation of ready. I hit the call button and then grinned,

"Hey Roman,"

"Hey yourself baby girl," his honeyed tones came back, in the low notes that had come to mean love and protection, not to mention hellacious biceps and a brutal right hook which hid his much sweeter more cuddly nature and the loyal protective streak I missed even more than most.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better by the hour. When my kid isn't trying to turn me into a damn play frame."

_Awww_.

From over the phone there was a childlike little giggle that I figured had come from his cute as a button little girl, who was probably thrilled that her beloved father was laid up a bit since it let them have some probably much needed family time. Even though that seemed to comprise of her bundling him and probably trying her hardest not too hurt him too much.

I chuckled,

"Think of it as her way of keeping you match ready."

"Talking of which, how are things?"

"Okay I think."

"Uce?"

"Other than moody because he misses his best friend?"

Roman snorted.

But I was being completely honest, because my husband _had_ been in kind of a funk, which was probably because he had never liked backstage much and the perpetual mill of people and the panicked buzz before the show. But he seemed to cope better when his brother was there with him, not to mention that our enemies basically ran the show and so two pairs of eyes were better than one by a long shot, since my own tended to be rose colored. Or kidnapped.

But not for four whole months now.

_Woo_.

Roman rumbled on,

"Tell his crazy ass I'll be back before he knows it, but _before_ that tell me how things are with you."

"Oh, um — ,"

It was far from the most confident start in existence and so therefore I could kicked myself for letting it out, since my _plan_ had been to reassure him that everything was easy breezy. Except possibly not in those precise words. But instead I had managed to pull my _too_ _honest_ bit and clue him heavily into the fact that something in my world was blue, which was frankly the last thing that I had wanted to talk about and so therefore naturally what he leapt on in true older brother style.

"Has someone upset you?"

"Uh — no?"

"Hey now listen, I can't make it better it you won't tell me what it is."

Damn his parent mode.

Not to mention his comforting warm tones which would have probably compelled a hardened terrorist to talk and made me wish fiercely that my own father was more like him, because he truly was the most incredibly even tempered man and precisely the sort of role model I would have wanted when I was little, like the big old teddy bear he was. Not to mention that he would have scared the _heck _out of bullies or else any prospective boyfriends that had tried to come and call.

"Lauren?"

"Um, so I _may_ have been receiving a few sort of messages — ,"

"What kind messages?"

"Text."

"Saying what to you exactly?"

"Uh — ,"

I turned a corner and then lowered my voice because the corridors were beginning to fill with hulking wrestlers, frowning and trying to pump themselves up, because heaven forbid they went out anything less than murderous. I shrugged my shoulders, which was totally useless because no way could he have seen it,

"Um, one may have kind of said that they — uh, you know — sort of loved me,"

"What?"

"Then the first one said something about me being beautiful, but I'm not sure — ,"

"Who sent them?"

"Um, yeah, soooo about that, because that _might_ be part of the problem I'm having."

Roman caught on fast,

"They're anonymous you mean?"

"Yep."

For a couple of seconds there was a silence between us that I used to tuck myself into a quiet little spot, because I was only a few steps from the hair and makeup hotspot and the last thing I wanted was to be brushing on my blusher talking about my _not _stalker over the phone. _Especially_ since it would then probably reach the stepmother that I still had not been fully convinced was not involved.

Randy too.

In fact I could pretty much picture them huddled like a coven of witches around a phone, tossing their heads back and cackling wildly as they typed out the poison missives and then sent them on, hoping to somehow ruin my marriage, or potentially my psyche.

"Lauren?"

"Oops sorry, I was thinking about witches."

Roman bypassed that part easily,

"Does uce know?"

"Um — ,"

Evidently that was fast becoming the question of choice from people, which therefore made it harder that the answer was _no_ since it made me seem like I had been keeping things from him, which was both true but also _not_ true as I tried to explain. Although not before my brother blew a long breath out which I figured was a complicated worried and wearied blend.

"Oh baby girl."

"But I mean, I have a good reason, because I'm nearly completely certain that my stepmom is involved."

"Dean still needs to know babe,"

I carried on blithely,

"I mean, we both know how much she loves to cause trouble and — ,"

Roman repeated himself,

"Lauren, hey. You _have_ to tell uce in case something bad happens, or someone else tells him."

I felt myself slump back,

"Yeah I know."

I thought it was best if I left out the titbit about me nearly having told him the whole truth the night before, but then being thwarted by Dean pulling a pack of cards out and the _sexy time _that had followed pretty lustily after that, since even though the foreplay had been a hit and miss moment it _had _succeeded nicely in putting us both in the mood.

Huh?

I blinked as a narrow looking shadow fell in front of me and then felt my body tense up in fright, because even though my commentary work handed me some protection, being backstage on my own still made me nervous and particularly when people popped out of nowhere like spooks.

Luckily it was a runner.

"We need you ready for the show in five."

I nodded back.

_Okay_.

Roman however clearly heard the order, since he blew a long breath out and then cleared his throat a little before then letting an expectant pause fill up the space. Throughout it I could positively _hear _his face creasing to knit his brows together in the worried way he had and which was probably pretty close to how he looked at his own kid when she had made a poor choice and was being scolded by him.

I hurriedly tried to make it right,

"I promise I'll tell him the second the show is over."

"I'll hold you to that."

He probably would and knowing it made me then promise him a second time and potentially even a third beyond that. Because naturally I knew that I had to tell my husband, since a problem shared was a problem halved and all that and besides which I knew that it would make me feel better.

Not that there was anything to _really_ worry about though.

Right?

* * *

**Next week, Lauren has had enough and decides to confront the culprit...it has...interesting results (and yes I am totally being a tease!)**


	10. My Own Worst Enemy

**Lauren is in detective mode (sort of) in this chapter, so expect some (sort of...or not) answers!**

**Minnie1015, Yep. No Dean. Has to be done sometimes, but some good old brother Roman hopefully made up for it. Gotta get the Big Dog's opinion on everything that's been going down. Plus, Lauren definitely needs a voice of reason!**

**Mandy, Just because Roman was at home healing during this part of 2014, doesn't mean I would leave him out! I could never do that to him! Plus, I like the little family that he, Dean and Lauren have made. Besides, let's face it, those two need all the friends they can get!**

**xXBalorBabeXx, Roman's dad/big brother mode is a natural state for him. Especially with friends like Dean and Lauren!**

**Phoenix lord of rebirth, Welcome back! Glad you're still enjoying it. There's going to be a bit more Roman too before the end (has to be done, I love him too much!)**

**Skovko, Um *shuffles awkwardly* about that whole 'everyone knowing before Dean thing', you might be able to add a couple more names to the list after this chapter (sorry, not sorry!)**

**Not-that-kinda-gurl, Aww, thank you so much! I'm glad you've enjoyed the whole Dean/Lauren saga. These were the first Shield stories I wrote so I'm super attached to them. Plus writing them soothes my sad Shield heart as much as reading them soothes yours! **

**Wolfgirl2013, The wait is over! The mystery is going to open up/deepen in this one!**

**HannonsPen, Haha. Lauren is going to get the same advice here too! As for the mystery, well, expect a few more answers in this one (but not many. I'm not that nice!)**

**Incoming text... **

* * *

**My Own Worst Enemy**

Rusev had certainly made one heck of an entrance, proudly bearing a totem and with his blonde valet in tow, not to mention with so much pomp and rampant nationalism that it had seemed more like a rally than the build to a match. Naturally it had sent the crowd nearly loco with boos and hissing that he had brazenly ploughed through and which was probably therefore why it seemed so very pleasing that his flamboyance had been for nothing.

Big Show was taking him to _town_.

"Oooh."

I winced with the rest of the arena as the broad palm slammed down across the bulky chest, which had already been turning a pretty vibrant cerise shade from the last few hits.

Bradshaw barked at them,

"Good _lord_."

Rusev bellowed in what was probably fury — or else the trauma of his nipples being pretty much battered loose but in the center of the ring in front of thousands of watching patrons not to mention the scattered millions viewing worldwide from their homes. Far worse still though was that the whole thing was happening in front of his valet come off screen love, since the two of them being a brand new item was the basically the worst kept secret in the world.

Lana looked worried.

_Uh huh_.

I knew that feeling perfectly —

Being stood helpless on the mats beside the barricades having to watch while her man was torn to bits and having to listen to him howling and bellowing as the heftiest man in the company wielded his paws like skillets or like he was painting a masterpiece with his hands.

I narrowed my eyes.

Was that a _face_ in the slap marks? The Big Show threw in a body check — based on which I presumed was a _no_ — but instead of dwell on it I simply hummed a little because for once the Smackdown taping had put me in a positive mood, since my husband had not only won his own match up but had managed to pull one over on Seth Rollins too by stealing the stupid gold briefcase from his clutches and then heading for the hills with his hostage in tow.

Knowing my luck he would probably want to have it in bed with us.

Beside me Michael Cole barked in sympathy,

"Oh _man_. They could hear that one all the way off in Moscow."

Rusev exploded from the corner.

"Great move."

Slamming into Big Show, the big Bulgarian knocked him over, which was kind of like a mountain being blown in the olden times, back when the railroads were being constructed and the land was being levelled to make way for the tracks. My bottle of water shook as he landed and I fumbled for it in case it ruined the match lists or else our many, _many_ copious notes.

I blinked,

"Well, at least now Lana looks happy."

_More_ than happy.

She was hopping up and down on the spot in relief and providing a real show for the men in the crowd behind her who were benefiting pretty heavily from her scandalously short skirt. Back in the ring her man seized a meaty foot up and then began to brutality stamp his heel into his foe, leaving the resident company monolith sprawled on his back like a turtle on the sand and wrestling himself control of the match back.

_Literally_.

Bradshaw liked it,

"See _there_ is that natural survival instinct I was talkin' about."

I threw my eyes skywards,

Please.

"He tripped him,"I huffed, "I mean an untied shoelace could have had the same impact."

"Come on now, the man is a professional, kid."

Rusev continued to hone in on the kneecap with a control I would have normally conceded was pretty good, but then the point of me being promoted to commentary was to help press the buttons of our resident heel since making the authority mouthpiece look bumbling then _also_ made _them_ look bumbling too and so had therefore become the reason for my existence.

Plus poking JBL was hella good fun.

Initially I had been a little careful about what I said to him, or pretty much everything I put towards the mike, but since I had never been called back to headquarters or been told by the chairman to maybe cool off, I had slowly but surely become more and more outspoken, which evidently the head honcho of the company liked and which the fans seemed to as well, since the one time I had hit the internet looking for feedback, people had mentioned how much they liked the bickering back and forth and busting of balls that I did on a nightly basis.

Other fans had wanted to sleep with me.

Ick.

Back up in the ring meanwhile, Rusev got cocky and walked right into a hefty side slam, before kicking out — helped by a bellow from Lana — as both men tried to once more pull their sizeable bodies up. Big show closed a fist up and my colleagues exploded,

"Uh oh."

"Oh boy, if he lands this — ,"

Dean had been on the end of a knockout punch a few times and so that end I knew how completely brutal they could be and so therefore screwed my face up in a wash of sudden sympathy for both the man about to eat it and the woman outside the ring, since she was the one who would have to haul him out of there and then probably take care of him for the rest of the night. Or else potentially hold his hand when they wheeled him for an x-ray to check the possibility of a bleed on the brain.

Or not.

Because from out of nowhere Rusev countered with a kick to the chest.

_Boom_.

Big show went backwards pretty heavily in response to it but then burst out of a cover right on the count of three, after which both of them sat in exhaustion before the smaller man tried to cinch in a hold, clearly having figured that since overpowering him had failed hopelessly, his best move was to instead slowly sap the fire out. If nothing else then JBL at least seemed to like.

Maybe too much.

"Holy mackerel. Rusev is riding him."

I blinked,

"Oh. But I thought this was a family show."

"Huh?"

Beyond us the man monolith powered out of the hold successfully by smashing his sizeable elbow on the hands, but the follow up to which I then missed completely as my cell phone buzzed from the table beside the scripts.

_New Text Message_.

Oh no —

Oh please no.

Kelly?

I mean, at the very least it _could_ have been her, since she and her hubby had become keen weekly viewers and borderline wrestling experts since I had started on the road and besides which she usually sent her opinions throughout the tapings. But for the most part only when my husband was on. Although maybe they had paused because the baby had been crying, or maybe the copious arm porn had put her in the mood and they had bounded up to bed for a spot of loving making before picking the show back up from where they'd left off?

It was totally plausible.

Right?

My hand slunk across the desktop, trying hard not to make it look too obvious that I was, since the last thing I needed was for the man seated next to me to think I was potentially trying to shirk work. But then I _had_ to answer it, because no way could I let it _sit_ there not knowing what was on it without totally freaking out. I moved a piece of paper like I was neatening the area then pulled the sheets back with my cell phone underneath which I slid onto my lap and hid away beneath the table before opening the text with my heart beating like mad.

_Multimedia Message_.

Huh?

It was a picture of a woman with long brown hair who had been photographed from behind as she had been stepped into a building which looked suspiciously like the venue.

I knew at once it was me.

_Crap_.

My heart seized up and I choked on a patch of nothing which sent me spluttering and wheezing for breath. Evidently it must have sounded pretty life threatening because a bottle of water was hastily passed my way and besides which there was a sudden sharp thunk in my headset that told me the producers had briefly cut my feed, since hacking up a lung in the middle of a match up had probably not been high on their _must haves _list.

I looked back at my phone and the caption to the picture,

_I'm always with you._

Ugh.

I shut my eyes and then bit back a sob. Because while the texts had been intrusive and creepy, they had always been from a distance. If that made any sense? Before that the messages could have been from anyone and besides which, more importantly from _anywhere_ in the world. Plus which the content had been nerve-wracking, not sinister.

But the photo was a brand new twist.

Holy hell.

Back up in the ring as the climax built steadily it was thrown by the intervention of the bottle bleached blonde, who flung herself beneath the ropes pleading for clemency as the human mountain stood in front of her loaded up his knockout punch. Although frankly the pair of them could have struck up the _can can_ and I would have been hard pressed to notice they had. Which was probably why I _then_ missed the proud Russian totem being whipped out from the turnbuckle and laced over Big Show's head.

_Ding-ding-ding_.

I blinked.

Stephanie McMahon.

It _had _to be.

Because the photo had to be someone who had been there earlier on _and_ who had been able to snap a rapid photo and make it seem blurry and haphazard and _wrong_. Except that surely had she been behind the fence looking in at me then the fans would have noticed the fact that she was there? Since being low key was not something she was good at.

Unless she had made an employee do her dirty work? But then again how totally messed up would _that_ have been and more importantly were the texts so vital to her payback that she would purposefully misuse a runner like that?

Probably, yes.

I could feel a hot fury washing in over me.

I needed to confront her.

I was on my feet in a blink and pulling off my headphones with a wrist flick of purpose as beside me my co-workers rounded up the night and as the cameras turned towards the victorious Big Show, who was plodding a slow painful path back up the ramp. Not that I could have cared less about the taping. Not when I had some serious stepmother ass to beat.

"Lauren? Hey, wait."

Bradshaw leaned over to seize up my blouse hem, looking bewildered. But since he usually was I pointedly closed my ears to him hissing and shook myself loose as I turned myself towards the back, in a stalk that would have probably looked no less imperious had I been commanding a heavily under fire ship, since I was certainly locked and loaded for combat. However it came at me.

Big Show blinked as I swept past,

"What in the — ,"

_Oops_.

Part of me felt bad for butting in on his limelight, since he had been midway through highs fives and back slaps from the fans, but then the fastest way backstage was via the rampway and so to that it was the best route choice I had. His theme music was still booming out through the arena but I knew that the taping had come to an end and so therefore at least I had only stolen his thunder for those people in the crowd and not those watching at home. I burst through the curtain with my phone held up as evidence and then launched fully into it,

"This has to stop. _Now_."

My stepmother blinked back at me hatefully,

"Excuse me?"

Randy was stood right behind her too.

_Crap_.

I had barely even noticed him in red misted fury and so suddenly seeing his face in the half-light practically stopped my poor pounding heart dead and then threw in little ice chips to make it a party.

I battled to fight back a bubble of nausea and find my former spunkiness.

It failed.

"Um, you — you heard."

In response to my hesitance my stepmother shot a brow up and then let a little smile flutter over her lips, like a cat who had seen a mouse stuck in a spider web but had no earthly intention of helping it out and was instead busy sharpening her claws on the sofa. Oh and besides which the crew was watching as well. Everyone was. From the producers to the runners and to the wrestlers still wearily plodding their way through and all of whom were listening covertly while at the same time pretending they were busy with their work.

But then again it _was_ rare that the boss bitch was barked at, so I mean, who could blame them for wanting seats in the front row?

Stephanie sneered,

"Well of course I heard you sweetie, but what I'm not doing is following."

_Denial_.

I should have known.

Holding my phone out once more but even closer so that her hollow little eyes could follow the thread, I scrolled through the unwanted text conversation one at a time at a pace she could read, before finally coming to the creeptacular photo that both Steph and Randy frowned at. Wait a minute. Frowned? For a second they almost looked totally bewildered. But then they couldn't have been.

Not when they were involved in it.

Right?

My stepmother looked up suddenly, beaming. Which —yep, okay so that wasn't good.

"Do you have a stalker?"

It was a weird thing to be pleased about, but there she was like a kid in a candy store, which threw me even more, since her childlike happiness about the whole situation seemed to imply that the messages weren't hers. Although _that_ left me stumped because I was running out of options. Who the hell was it?

Randy?

Except. Nope. He was looking baffled too. Which was possibly because his brain was in his penis and his teeny tiny wrestling trunks were cutting the blood supply off. But it could _also_ have been that he _too _had never seen them, or worded them, or sent them.

No. Just no.

I shook my head,

"But you _have_ to be behind them. Because who else is such a bitch to me?"

"Did you seriously have the nerve to call me a — ,"

"Hey now."

Hands fell in over my shoulders pretty heavily and I jumped as a new voice suddenly cut in. But it was also familiar and fake and nasally and —

I struggled against him,

"Take your hands off me Seth."

But instead however he seemed to hold on firmer as he slowly but steadily began to pull me back and away from the vicious looking sneer of my stepmother who was still clearly reeling from having been called a _bitch_. Although honestly it couldn't have been _that_ much of a surprise. It wasn't like she sold Girl Scout cookies for a living or collected for charity or rescued homeless cats. Randy moved forward to stand in beside her but for a minute I thought that he was moving after us and in my panic I may have let loose a hiccup that the bulky bastard smirked at.

_Hate, hate, hate_.

I managed one last bellow as I was hauled into the corridor,

"One more text and I'll call the police."

"_Lauren_ — ," Seth hissed back at me heatedly, like for some bizarre reason he was furious with me. Not that my poor befuddled brain could figure _that_ out as he towed me past the curtain then pushed me back into the wall, in a corner of the hall which was thankfully free of people, not to mention bitchy stepmothers and predatory wrestler types. He paused and then ran his hands through his blonde streak which looked fried from the bleaching but mesmerized me a bit. Or at least until he let loose a bark of frustration that had no right to be there,

"Did you not hear me before?"

"Huh?"

"Or are you that freaking stubborn that you refused to listen?"

I shook my head in bewilderment,

"I'm not — ,"

"I _told_ you the texts weren't coming from Stephanie, but you _had_ to pile in and make things worse."

"But it _must _be them."

Damn.

It may have come out with a sob of self pity because frankly the whole thing was starting to eat at me like rats and because, if the worst _was _true and my stepmother was _not_ behind them, then the texts were being sent by somebody who was close and who had evidently been tailing my movements and _stalking _me.

"Lauren?"

"They — they know where I am and — ,"

"Lauren, hey."

Seth put his hands on my arms and I looked up to find him blinking back in concern. As in real concern which was kind of weird thing considering he had hit me in the head with a chair and tried to kill my husband with cinder blocks and lied and cheated and turned his back. Although not even _I_ could argue with his logic as he huffed out a sentence at me.

"Go and fucking tell Dean."

* * *

**Okay everyone, this is it. In the next chapter Dean finds out what's been going on…**

**Don't miss it!**


	11. The Truth Will Set You Free

**Okay, time for Dean to find out!**

**xXBalorBabeXx, It was definitely fun having Lauren call Steph a bitch. She has come a long way since that first story when she was terrified of Stephanie (okay okay, so she still is a little bit!)**

**Wolfgirl2013, Yep. Things are hotting up!**

**Mandy, Hey, how was the interview? Nerves beforehand are always a killer, but in the moment you just have to go for it! Like Lauren, she can be ballsy when she needs to be! I'm enjoying following Seth in this story and making him a little more human (slightly) from the evil Authority monster he was on TV.**

**Skovko, Seth is between a rock and a hard place. Trying to be evil to be successful and achieve his championship dreams, but also (although he would argue this point bitterly) not totally able to stop caring about his old gang. But yeah, Seth as the voice of reason...alarm bells!**

**Phoenix lord of rebirth, Yep, strap in because the crazy will be coming soon enough! Dean is definitely not happy, but luckily he knows where to direct his anger. I love me some fierce promo goodness!**

**Minnie1015, Seth is definitely working through his own things in this one. He's a poor confused boy (except not that poor because he's also still evil which is/was all his own fault!) **

**Debwood-1999, Aww, glad to have you back on board! Wow, okay, so I kind of wish I had done your version now….except it's always good to be a little unpredictable I guess. Hopefully when you get to my big dramatic chapters you'll see why I went the way I did (and hopefully they'll be just as enjoyable as your version!) Dean is angry here, but so is Lauren and...well, you'll see.**

**The big reveal...**

* * *

**The Truth Will Set You Free**

Dean was stretched out in our locker room when I bust in there, with his back to the lockers and his feet kicked up on the bench but so busy polishing his newly stolen briefcase with the corner of his shirt front that he barely looked up and so therefore completely missed my look of devastation and the miserable tear tracks blemishing my cheeks. Even though he knew it was me in a second.

He blew on the case front,

"Heya Princess. You 'bout ready to hit the road?"

"Dean —,"

"I know, I know. You think I should never have taken it. But c'mon, I mean it was freakin' _sittin_' there."

Huh?

"What was sitting where?"

Oh.

He was talking about the briefcase, but also proving how well he knew me, because my first thought _had _been that it was horrible idea to steal the one thing that Seth seemed to care for more than anything in the world. Except _maybe_ for former sisters of the non-blood variety who seemed to find trouble like other people had hot meals and had spent more time blubbering beneath the bowels of sports arenas than was probably strictly possible. And yet there we were. I had certainly been crying as I had trampled to our locker room, because the fear had reached fever pitch in what was basically record time and because suddenly I could see my stalker in every runner and every passing face. Whether I knew them or not.

Dean swiped the case front like he was polishing a statue.

_Dean_.

I let my eyes roam in over the tipped up head and the copper blonde locks that he had moistened before show time and which had clearly been drying off nicely ever since, because his beautiful tangle had started to curl slightly so that he looked like a child star from some nineteen forties film. In the moment I couldn't for the life of me figure why I had kept the texts from him for so long. Because even though I knew that someone scaring me would make him furious, I _also_ knew that his protectiveness would make me feel loved.

Dean cleared his throat,

"Uce called me earlier. Said there was somethin' you needed to tell me or somethin', so — ,"

I hiccupped at him miserably,

"Dean — ,"

His head shot up at once. Like someone had set off the claxons in his brainstem and I watched as his baby blues narrowed in on me and then roamed; tracking over the tear trails and my wobbly bottom lip pout, which he blinked at for a second before putting the briefcase to one side. He sat up ramrod straight as I leaned back against the threshold, which shut the door with an unintentional _click_, but on the plus side it sealed us fully into the locker room and so therefore shut any potential listening stalkers out.

My husband frowned worriedly,

"Princess?"

"Dean, I'm so sorry — ,"

"Lemme take a stab here an' say your stepmother is involved?"

I shook my head,

"No."

That was the reason for my breakdown. Because on some subconscious level I had _wanted_ her to be involved, since her brand of bitchiness was one I had grown used to and could just about cope with. But it _wasn't_ her.

So then who?

Damn it. _Who _was trying to torment me?

I let out a whimper then moved my hands up to my temples, because I could suddenly feel a stress headache coming on and because the truth of it seemed to so pathetic to have to tell him. Although clearly my performance ended up freaking Dean, since he stood from the bench and then strode across the locker room as he moved in towards me and put his hands on my arms.

"Whoa, hey now."

"I — I should have told you sooner. But I really, honestly thought it was nothing."

"Huh?"

Oops. He needed context.

Okay.

Hauling a shaky breath in I clung fast to his shirt front and then lowered myself towards him so that my forehead bumped his chest, which allowed me to then suck his freshly showered scent in, which sat beneath the notes of his musky body spray. Not to mention the too chintzy peony fabric softener that I had put in the laundry and which had seeped into his t-shirt.

_Mmm_.

Not for the first time I wished I could melt into it and become a physical part of who he was, or potentially shrink myself so I could fit in his pocket and have him carry me with him wherever he went. Because that would probably be cute. Like in a movie. Except that it would probably then kill me to have sex and so based on that principle alone I then excluded it.

Dean put his hands on my cheeks to lift my head,

"Princess, look at me."

"I — ,"

"I mean, c' mon, m' freakin' beautiful, so I can't be _so_ bad to look at here, huh?"

I blinked into his palms,

"No."

"So then how 'bout you work with me an' lemme see those eyes kid?"

_Darn_.

I blew a breath out and slowly lifted my head up, which succeeded in momentarily putting all my latent fears to rest. Because my husband was a kiss away from me and _lord_ was he sexy, not to mention so handsome that I could have cried a _second_ time. Especially since his expression was stuck midway between worry and a kooky little smile as he tried to pep the mood up. He kept his hands on my cheek bones and I leaned further into them, like he was cupping a pathetic little palmful of spousal soup but which luckily he seemed not to mind in the least bit since he smiled at me broadly,

"Hey, _there _my wife is, an' lookin' all freakin' pretty too."

_Ha_.

Not likely.

I probably looked a lot more how I felt, which was stupid and weary and a perpetual screw up. But one that had to tell him the truth _sometime_ and so to that end I steeled myself then mumbled the words into his hands which meant that they came out so babbled and sloppy that my baffled husband was forced to slightly re-adjust his palms, so that my lips weren't being smushed and I could speak proper English.

He blinked,

"How 'bout maybe tryin' that part again for me here?"

"He's been sending me texts."

"Huh?"

"Not that I know that it _is _a man exactly. But they feel super creepy so — ,"

"Princess, back up a second here."

Dean's expression had faded pretty rapidly from the concerned one to be replaced by a sort of _hesitant_ looking one instead. Like maybe he could sense where my rambled blurb was headed, but was reluctant to believe it.

Like I could blame him for that.

Blowing a breath out my husband reached behind me and then locked the door with a solid sounding _thunk_, to prevent any runners or official venue people from careering into the middle what was promising to be something big and which he further prepared for by seizing my hand up and then leading me back over to the bench, where he pressed me to the slats having shunted off the briefcase. So on the plus side at least I was still his number one. Taking a seat beside me he propped his foot up on the kick bar and then started to bounce it so that it mildly shook the bench.

"Okay, time to fuckin' spill the beans Lauren."

Oh lord.

Here went nothing.

"Um, it started back home. But someone has _kind_ of been sending these weird _texts_ to me."

"Define weird?"

"Here — ,"

I handed him my phone which had pretty much been clenched in my sweaty palm the whole time, so was a little bit slickened as he took it in his hand. To the point that he had to wipe it off on his pant fronts, which was a lovely little side note. I bit my lip hard, because honestly I had no clue how he would react to them, _or_ how furious he was going to be at me, but which I prayed deep down wasn't going to be _too_ bad.

His brows folded in.

_Oh god. Oh god._

Not that I could blame him for a second if he _was _mad at me. Because only three months before I had kept something from him and it had hurt him so much that he had up and walked away and — okay — maybe for all of ten hours, but the _potential_ was still there for a repeat of the same thing. Except this time with no Roman to see me safely to our hotel room.

Dean tensed his jaw,

"Is this it?"

"Um, it _was_. But then this one just came through."

"What — ,"

I scrolled to the photograph and in response my husband went so still that I wondered if maybe his brain had seized up on him. Except, no. It was just the precursor to a meltdown, since he tossed the phone towards me and then began to pace the room, in a full hair-pulling and cuss-word laden fury that I watched happen silently clutching my cell close to my chest.

"That motherfuckin' scum suckin' — ,"

I burst,

"I'm _so_ sorry I never told you. But I thought they were from her and so if I pretended not to care — ,"

Dean frowned,

"Her?" I was back to skipping out sections, mostly because my poor brain was so scrambled that it was tiring in victors and muddling things up. Not to mention that having kept the truth from him for nearly two weeks, I was suddenly so frantic for him to be totally caught up that I was moving at about a million and one miles an hour. Dean blinked at me, "Hold up. You mean the boss bitch?"

"Uh huh."

"So it isn't from her? Are you sure about that part. Because this shit would totally be in her crappy ballpark."

I shook my head,

"She knew nothing when I confronted her."

"When?"

Beyond us in the hallway, I could hear low sounds of rumbling as the boxes and pallets were packed up to be moved, which usually meant heading back to the hotel room for showers and being safely tucked up in our bed. Or even _better_ since it sometimes meant heading to the airport and starting to process of heading to _our _home. If it was even going to _be_ our home for much longer, provided he had been serious about the whole _moving thing_.

"Lauren, tell me when?"

I blinked,

"Um, before I came in here. Because, I mean, I thought it was her. Even though Seth told me twice that it wasn't and — ,"

"_What_?"

As fury shivered through the blue eyes in front of me, I bit lip wished I had kept _that _part to myself. Because while keeping the truth from my husband had been _one_ thing, telling the hated nemesis that had literally tried to break him was quite categorically a whole _other_ thing. Which I knew not only because I knew my husband, but _also_ because his pacing stopped pretty much dead. I was out of the frying pan and into the fire. Except the fire was the person I loved more than anything in the world and who _also_ had the propensity to be a little fractious and to act without thinking.

He also tended to cuss.

A lot.

"Lauren. You mean you kept this shit from _me_ but went straight over there an' fuckin' told _him_?"

"No I — ,"

"Because three months back he tried to cave my fuckin' skull in. Unless you forgot."

_Forgot_?

I felt myself frown.

Because how in the world could I ever have forgotten being pinned back as I screamed until my throat had turned hoarse? Or falling to my knees beside him crying like a widow and not sure whether touching him would help or make things worse? Or the hours I had spent throughout the nights that had followed with the bedside light on watching his chest rise and fall, but the whole time expecting his battered body to stop breathing and being coiled like a spring ready to make the emergency call.

I spluttered it incredulously back at him,

"_Forgot_?"

My eyelid may have slightly flickered too, which clued Dean into his mistake too late to stop it, although he tried to take it back by putting up his hands, like he was trying to back a bear up in the middle of a forest but had somehow also managed to kick it in the nose.

"Princess, look. I didn't mean — ,"

I interrupted him,

"Seth knew because I yelled at him for being involved."

"Lauren — ,"

"So if you think I went chasing off to tell him what happened, then _no_. Because believe it or not that is _not_ who I am and because _sometimes_ I am mature enough to try and fix things on my own. And besides which I _hate_ when they use me against you, so I wanted to make them back off and leave us alone before it could make you all twitchy and angry. But it wasn't like we were painting our toenails together or sharing secrets behind your back or — ,"

Dean stopped me with a hug.

By which I meant he circled his broad arms around me and then pulled me into the warmth of his chest, with one hand on my head stroking clumsily through my hairline in loose little scrunches and low murmurs,

"Easy. I know."

"He — he told me I needed to tell you."

"The little weasel did, huh?"

I nodded but then left it at that, because honestly even _mentioning_ Seth in a sentence without him throwing something felt like a victory of sorts and besides which, it didn't exactly feel like the moment to reveal my whole theory about how he still loved us deep down.

Meanwhile Dean scrunched my hair and cussed hotly,

"That god damn fuckin' bastard."

"Seth?"

"Nope, I'm back to my first hunch on this."

I blinked against his chest,

"Randy?"

Because if his mind worked like mine, then he was probably moving through the full Authority membership, meaning that sooner or later the big red machine would get a shout and so to would an evil bearded swamp monster hillbilly. But okay, so evidently not though, because _instead_ of following the same path I was taking, my husband had silently been taking the exit ramp and had arrived in a separate town altogether. Metaphorically speaking.

"Nope. Not him, because m' talkin' about that handsy former boyfriend of yours."

"_Andy_?"

"Got it in one Princess."

"But why would _he_ be sending them? And, wait, I mean, how would he even have my number?"

Dean snorted two words back,

"Freakin' _internet_."

"Oh."

"Besides, every time we hit town he's puttin' his fuckin' hands on your, or leapin' outta shops."

_Hmmm_.

He had a point on that.

Because having not seen him for nearly a year beforehand, in the last twelve months I had seen him three times. Plus each of those had either been bizarre or else horrific, or — if I was honest — a little of both. Not to mention he had been talking about us being back together on at least _one_ out of three of those. So perhaps it _was _him? But then why wait so long before proclaiming his love for me and especially when _he _had been the one who had broken things up, since our former relationship had seemed pretty irreparable after he had pushed me and busted me up.

By accident of course.

"But, he said he was seeing someone."

Dean shrugged back at me,

"Maybe he is."

"So — ,"

"But if you think the means for one freakin' second that crafty _asshole_ is not a suspect in this, then I got some real bad news for you Princess."

"Oh," I murmured with a frown in response.

Because the more I thought about it — and the timescale of the whole thing — the more and more my murderous husband made sense, since the first text had been sent through the night of the campout, which had only been hours after Andy had bumped into me on the street and tried to make out like the two of us should be cordial, or like our previous meeting had not been the scary one with me in my bed robe and trapped in the kitchen as he smashed up a tumbler and had threatened to sue me.

Well, sue _Dean_.

But irrespective of that I still knew he watched wrestling, because his _main_ bone of contention had been me kissing Dean on screen and so therefore it stood to reason how he had known that we were married, since there was nobody else that could have told him at all and besides which meant that while I had not seen _him_ in almost twelve months, _he _had been possibly watching _me_ every week.

I cleared my throat,

"The — the first text came through after I saw him."

"Well that fuckin' settles it."

"Dean?"

"What? You okay?"

He had probably felt my sudden shiver beneath him, since his arms suddenly tightened around me in response.

"He — he's here."

"Huh?"

I shook my head into his shirt front, like I was trying to burrow in,

"He took that photograph of me _here_ and — ,"

Dean rumbled at me in husky tones,

"Easy."

"But what if — what if — ,"

He pushed my head in with a loving press, which buried my face in his solid pectorals and then muffled the rest of my sentence in his tee material. His hand resumed the blend of touching and scrunching and even though I preferred when he kissed me to stop me rambling, being crushed into his torso was by no means a bad thing. Which is why I remained there until I ran out of oxygen.

Holy crap. Dying.

_Gasp_.

"Princess he probably lifted that photo off the internet to make it freakin' _seem _like he was here."

I blinked at him,

"You think so?"

Dean switched tactics,

"But even if he _is_ here his sorry ass is stuck on the outside, so there is nothin' to freak out about. 'Kay?"

"I'm scared though."

My words were whispered because the locker room beyond us felt totally silent and bitterly cool, like the two of us were talking in a library or something and so therefore it felt better to lower my voice and besides which, I was frightened that saying the sentence _too_ loudly would somehow make it seem more real. Dean's arm muscles twitched, but then he mumbled back huskily,

"Gimme your phone Princess."

It was clenched in my hand which was weird because at no point could I particularly remember me either taking it or him handing it back, but which obviously he had done and so blinking at it briefly I passed the cell between us and silently watched him find the texts, before bringing up the box to reply to the missives, at which point I panicked and tried to scrabble at his arms, because the last thing I wanted was him poking the bear for me. Or the creepy former lover or whoever it was.

"Dean, _please_ — ,"

"Easy Princess, I need you to trust me."

I bit my lip.

_Damn_.

How could I ever say no?

Scrolling through the texts, Dean hit the call button and then put it on speaker as I had a heart attack and possibly a stroke and some sort of haemorrhage, because holy cow, how was _this_ a good plan?

"Dean – ,"

Lifting a finger he buttoned my lips up, which muffled my squeak as the phone began to ring. My heart turned to ice then stopped beating completely. Or it _felt_ like that at least. I didn't want to hear their voice. But at the same time I_ did_, because I needed some answers. I dug my fingers into Dean and then waited.

_Ring-ring_.

"Pick up you freakin' asshole."

"I'm sorry, but the caller cannot come to phone – ,"

_Phew_.

I sagged like a ragdoll into the lockers and bumped my head, but it was worth it. And _how_,

"If you would like to leave a message – ,"

"Nope. No thank you."

I felt pretty confident about that. Although evidently Dean had yet _another_ opinion and – _ugh_, okay, we really needed to start talking about things.

_Beep_.

"Listen up you scum suckin' piece of shit asshole. Y' must think you're real funny tryin' a' mess with my wife. Leavin' your fucked up little messages for her? Because do ya wanna know what I think is funny? Huh jackass? You know what I like doin' more than anythin' in the world? _I_ like takin' no good freakin' assholes an' squeezin' their windpipes until there's no more air left, an' I like watchin' when their eyes start to bulge an' kinda _panic_, an' _then_ I like puttin' my foot up their ass so that all they taste for the rest of their life is leather. Do you get what m' tryin' to say to you asshole? Can you get that through your skull?"

I blinked a little.

_Yikes_.

And was it weird that I was feeling kind of turned on by Dean's tirade? Because, honestly? Yep. I really, really was. What with it being all raspy and protective and since saying it was making his face get all _scrunched_. I bit my lip and then attempted to focus.

_Being stalked, remember Lauren_?

I nodded to myself.

_Right_.

"So here's the deal," Dean carried on gruffly, almost as if he'd forgotten I was there. Except for the fact that I was squeezing his t-shirt and pinching his nipple, "You crawl back under whatever rock you came from an' never even freakin' _think_ about Lauren again, or _I _track you down an' I rearrange your features so that even dental records won't tell people who you were. Last warning."

_Click_.

Dean finished the message and then switched my phone off, before tossing it into the holdall of sweaty wrestling gear, where it slid to the bottom to possibly wallow, or like maybe the poison texts had been entirely its own fault.

Dean grunted,

"Done an' we're buyin' you a new cell phone."

"Uh huh. Right. Thank you."

"Hey — ," he lifted up my head, by propping one of his knuckles beneath my chin folds and then using it to lever my whole face towards his, so that the pair of us were essentially brushing noses and blinking nearly eye to eye. Except not _exactly_ since he had about a foot on me, so really it was more like we were blinking _collarbone_ to eye. None of which mattered because we were still stood together, "Gonna keep my favorite wife safe. Y' hear me?"

I blinked,

"Did you say _favorite_?"

He shrugged,

"Top three at least."

I snorted and rolled my eyes, then tiptoed up to kiss him, which Dean responded by clamping his lips to mine and soothing away the fear and the worry and the panic in a way which made me hum and then try and curl my toes up.

Bruised ankle.

_Ouch_.

"Dean?"

"Problem Princess?"

"No. Thank you for looking after me."

He snorted,

"It's gonna be fine, y' hear?"

And the weird thing was, I believed him for a second. Or maybe a second and a half.

But not for long.

* * *

**Next chapter we have ourselves a little bit of sweetness before the crazy hits and oh boy is it going to hit?!**


	12. Goodnight Sweetheart

**Much needed sweetness in this one and our last stop shop before the crazy hits in!**

**xXBalorBabeXx, They've come through too much together not to. Besides, would it really be Lauren if she wasn't in trouble?!**

**Rebel8954, Welcome to the continuing party fun times! Dean did handle it pretty well. I mean, I think he **_**wanted**_** to blow up initially, but Lauren freaking out kind of stopped him on that. Husband powers, **_**activate**_**!**

**Wolfgirl2013, Aww, thank you. Awesome is good.**

**Mandy, I'm so glad things sound like they're on the up for you. I knew you'd get there! You've just got to white knuckle through all of the bad stuff sometimes. My mum is good, needs six monthly scans, but all clear right now! Got some sweet Dean and Lauren fluff for you here, to make you feel all gooey inside!**

**I-Am-WarKitten, Hmm, well, since you said don't tell you, I won't! But either way, hi and I'm really, really glad you're liking the story. Got some more cuteness here for you, but rest assured, the drama is coming!**

**Debwood-1999, It is still 2014 (which will henceforth be known as the 'golden Dean year' alongside 2013 and 2015 *weeps for happier times*) so Bray was indeed lurking around towards Christmas. But I'm not giving anything away yet though!**

**Minnie1015, Yep, she took her sweet time, but she did it and the stalker (whoever he is) definitely deserved that earful from Dean. Plus writing angry, ranting Dean is always great fun, so really I deserved it too!**

**Skovko, No situation is ever so serious that you can't joke about it (or at least not if you're Lauren or Dean anyway!)**

**Phoenix lord of rebirth, Aww, glad you're still enjoying it. One more nice calm chapter and then we're going to get right into it!**

**Last time before the madness...**

* * *

**Good Night Sweetheart**

"Hey, _there_ you are."

"Huh?"

I looked up from the candle and then blinked towards a bleary and sleep tousled hunk. Dean had clearly been face first in his pillow since he looked kind of crumbled and hotly pink cheeked and besides which his hair was sticking up all over, with half of it plastered over his features and the rest of it poking clean up into the air, like at some point through the night he had turned into a cockerel. But, you know, a really cute one, so that was okay.

In response to his appearance I bit a smile back badly and he knitted his brows in and then clumsily stumbled close, before pillowing himself down beside me on the loveseat I had forcibly purchased a few weeks after I had moved in, because the terrace outside our bedroom had been too beautiful _not_ to sit out on, but at the time had only been home to a treadmill. So cushions and candles were a definite plus and besides which it was always a nice place to watch the sunrise, or curl up when I couldn't sleep.

"Same fuckin' nightmare as before?"

"Uh huh."

"Like with the feelin' like you're fallin' an' all that crap?"

"Um, yep, that's the one."

I shuddered in response and my husband instinctively reeled me in closer, so that I toppled like a tree into his chest. Lowering his lips he pressed a kiss against my hairline, before keeping them there as the memories and the helplessness of the nightmare swirled around me for the second – no wait – for the _third _time that week. Which was starting to get just a _little_ frustrating, because what was I? A kid?

_Ugh_.

I was falling each time.

Every time I went to sleep, that was always where I wound up. On a mountain, or in the sky or somewhere shadowy but high up, fighting with someone and then losing my step. I would scream as I ripped free, but then I was falling and falling and falling.

I shivered,

"Easy wife."

"But it feels so real," I mumbled back huffily, "And I can't see anything, I just keep going down and waiting for the moment I get splatted on the bottom and never wake up."

Dean snorted,

"Princess, nightmares are _meant_ to suck."

"I know."

Leaning in closer I blinked out from his loose tee folds and off towards the mountains looming in blue shadow beyond. In an hour they would probably be bathed in hot sunshine and blazing so brightly just_ looking_ at them would hurt. Because even though I'd known that summer in the desert was going to be a warmish experience to say the least, I had been totally knocked back by how _complete_ the heat was, to the point that even the _air_ lacked moisture and so that everything from people to the plants were parched. _My_ home state was always nice and moist in comparison.

My home state.

Moving.

Had he been serious about that?

Because even though he had certainly mentioned it the first time, since then there'd not been not so much as a single peep and even though I had chalked that up to being on the road again and to the hectic and breathless nature of our lives, I was beginning to think there was a little more to it than us both being busy people.

Maybe he had changed his mind?

Which would have been totally understandable from his point because our lives to that point had been built around _his _place and the bizarre but brilliant city he had chosen to make his new life in.

I mean, Las Vegas was a cool place.

Well, okay, so maybe not the strip part – even though there were perks to having that on hand too – but what had made _me_ love it were the natural wonders and the hills and the barren earth and the rocky little trails, all a ten minute ride from the city, in a blend of modern and natural that I liked, since sometimes it felt like being a part of some human colony that had been sent on a mission to populate Mars.

But was the plan to live there forever and ever?

I blinked a little,

"Dean?"

"Nuh? Huh — what?"

His head snapped up from the brow of my hairline, based on which I guessed he had fallen back to sleep. Not least of all because for the third time already he had been forced to leave his bed and find his idiot wife. Although on the plus side it was better than the first night, when I had woken him bawling and basically screaming that I was dead.

Baby steps then.

I pushed myself upright and then bit my lip at his bleary looking face, before trying to smooth out the cockerel type hairpiece which flattened for a second but then hastily bounced back.

I sucked in a breath,

"Um, so were you really serious when you talked about moving?"

He blinked at me,

"Movin'? Movin' where?"

_Crap_.

Basically that was a pretty blunt _no _then, but even though a part of me that had known it was coming, I still had a battle to force back a lump, because honestly the thought of us living in my hometown and being near my best friend and the trees and the lake had _sort of_ been keeping me pepped up throughout the hard times and besides which, there had been many new things to show him and kooky little local pastimes I felt he would have loved.

Dean frowned,

"Hold up, you mean us movin' to Wisconsin?"

My heart leapt tentatively,

"Kinda, yep."

"Uh huh. So what about it Princess, because right after I mentioned it you kinda went all silent on me, so I thought — ,"

I butted in on him,

"Wait, so you still want to move there?"

"Sure."

For a bewildered sort of second I mostly just blinked, because in hindsight it was _so_ crazily like us to have totally crossed wires somewhere along the line, since the both of us spent our lives so concerned about the other that _naturally_ we had assumed the other hated the idea and besides which, the whole initial _talking-it-through_ part had been interrupted by me face planting the path. Not to mention the pain killers and the haze that had followed and _then _the text messages.

But who really cared?

Because the point was that my husband still wanted to leave his man-base and officially turn the page on a brand new life with me.

Back when he had first coolly floated the plan past me, I had botched my attempt at showing him some love, but _this _time I was seated and my ankle had healed nicely, so I launched up and kissed him without any fear.

"The fuck — ,"

No fear, but evidently a _lot_ of confusion.

Not that he complained as I cupped his cheeks between my palms, making sure that I was in control of the situation, before tilting his head back so that it bumped into the loveseat and then rising up pnto my knees so that for once, I had the height. His face was still pretty warm from all the sleeping and his lips were more clumsily than I was used to them being, but they still opened up to my tongue tip flicking over them and then shivered when I nibbled the bottom one a tiny bit. By the time I leaned back he looked totally baffled, like the lone survivor of a shipwreck or a terrible plane crash perhaps.

_Yep_.

_Still got it._

I beamed in response,

"Now _that _was how I was trying to thank you that morning when I twisted my ankle."

Dean blinked,

"Jesus Christ. All for me sayin' we should move?"

"Well, not _exactly_ — ,"

"Because if you like changes Princess, then I got some good news for ya, because I got a whole _bunch_ of shit we can switch up 'round here."

"Like what?"

Nuzzling my head down onto his ribcage, I pulled his broad arm around me like a blanket, because – _newsflash_, but the desert at night was cold. It was something that I had found out the hard way ten months earlier, when living in a sandbox had still been pretty new and I had thrown on a sleeveless top to go to dinner but had ended up half frozen and wearing his shirt, which thinking back on it had turned out pretty well for me, since it had meant Dean being in a figure hugging tee. But basically the bottom line when living in Nevada, was that _sun up_ meant hot and _sun down_ meant chills. Or snakes, or occasionally _both _if you were lucky.

My husband poked his tongue out both thoughtfully and preciously and – oh dear god.

_Dimples_.

Ugh, I loved those darn things.

"Well _first_," he rumbled sluggishly, ignoring me poking one, "M' thinkin' we need to implement a new rule at home, where you only ever wear a bra an' lace panties."

I smirked back,

"You too, except shorts obviously."

Dean shook his head but then pulled me in closer, because clearly the thought of us wandering round semi-naked was providing a spark of life to his previously sleep fogged brain. Even though there were chores and things that would be harder if we were only ever allowed to be partly clothed at home. Like mowing the lawn and watering the flowers and wandering out to collect the post. Dean with no clothes though —

I could probably get behind that.

"Plus we pro'ly need like, a kinky_ sex_ room, because everyone has one of those things nowadays."

I frowned in surprise,

"Do you mean here or the new house? Because I _suppose_ if we maybe knocked through to the third bedroom, then it would totally be possible to put a rack and chain on the walls and then a couple of shelves for keeping the all the whips and blindfolds."

"You sound like an expert here."

I blushed,

"No."

Although thank god he had never found my _Fifty Shades_ hardback. Not that I had actually _read_ it of course. I had only been looking at it out of pure interest and had _not_ been finding _any_ of it hot, because frankly the whole thing had been so badly written that had someone propped a typewriter beneath the two of us _in flagrante_, us rutting on the keys would have probably turned out a better book.

Dean turned towards me suddenly more serious,

"So tell me the dream here."

"You — you mean my nightmare?"

"I mean the house."

"Oh."

Dean kissed my head a second time. Out of fondness I guessed, or else possibly latent instinct, or a new form of tick, but which suited me either way as the breeze blew in over us and made the candlelight flicker and then blow up the scent of sandalwood with deep vanilla notes. In response to the question though I blinked at him thoughtfully and then shrugged.

It was simple.

"I want Boomer and you."

"Huh?"

"My two favorite boys in the whole of the universe. That's all I need anywhere."

Dean snorted at me,

"Barf."

Being an ass also stuck his tongue right out and then pretended to launch a finger right down his throat, which I tried to wrestle back because he really was an idiot _and _a damn child. He licked his fingertip and then turned the shiny wet pad round towards me,

I squealed in horror at him,

"Dean. Don't you — _no_."

Scrambling from the chair I made a break for the bedroom, where my _plan_ had been to tangle myself up beneath the sheets, although it instantly fell to pieces as my husband snatched my arm up and then spun me back towards him with the wet finger towards my ear. Probably in real terms I should have been trying to stop him, or at least trying to put on a semi-serious façade, but instead I was too busy screaming with laughter as I squirmed and tried to fight him and then finally threw a punch up.

_Thunk_.

It caught him on the cheekbone a lot harder than I had banked on and obviously him too based on his startled looking blink, although it quickly turned into a sexy malevolence as he knitted his brows and smirked.

Ooooh.

Evil Shield Dean was back.

"Ho Princess, am I gonna make you live to regret that?"

"Yes please."

My husband snorted at my coy little response, but then hardened his look in a way that meant trouble.

The really, really good kind of trouble.

_Eep_.

As he encircled my body and pulled me towards him, I let out a literal squeal of surprise and then grinned as his hold slid down over my navel and then my hips and my butt and further beyond, almost like I was bizarrely _hula hooping_ my husband, or like maybe he had airport scanners implanted in his arms and was checking me for shrapnel or any concealed weapons, but then stopped at my kneecaps and cinched in hard.

Crap.

I lost my balance pretty much in an instant and then topped with a scream towards the concrete terrace floor, before finding myself being braced by my pyjama top and lowered pretty safely and sweetly towards the earth. Beneath me the ground was cold and bitter, but it was countered by the body pressed protectively above and the hand that was pillowing my head and the _expression_.

Holy _hell_ the expression was hot.

Dean turned his lips up so that his teeth flashed bright white at me, like a wolf that had a newborn baby lamb trapped in his claws. It made me quiver in certain _special _places, because we had never had _sexy time_ on the balcony before and suddenly that seemed a crime of almost epic proportions.

He pinned my arms above my head,

"Now then Princess — ,"

I shivered,

"Yes? Does this mean – does this mean you have to punish me?"

Evidently his plan had still been wet willy based, like the repressed elementary school troublemaker he was, although it fell away to his more mature impulse pretty rapidly, which I could tell from the bulge that then knocked into my thigh and the heat of which burnt through my pants like a fire. Dean was so close that his breath was on my nose tip and blinking up trapped me fully in the sweep his eyes, which were gazing down with cheekiness, exhaustion and arousal.

I bit my lip and then tilted towards him wistfully,

"Dean — ,"

It was going to be the kiss of a lifetime, or like the climax of a movie.

Boomer licked me instead.

"_Ewww_."

Even though he pretty much could sleep through most noises – including the vacuum cleaner and me in the kitchen clattering loudly with pots and pans – evidently his parents having a play fight on the balcony was something that his ears were fully tuned not to miss and so at some point he had leapt from his place on the comforter and trotted out into the midst to say hello and my squealed reception to which then made him so insanely happy, that he moved in for a second lick as I tried to shield myself.

"Boomer, no — ,"

_Swipe_.

Instantly dog drool plastered my forehead and possibly even brushed over my lips, so that I physically coughed and then tried to spit it loose from me while my husband rolled his eyes and then pushed the big lug off, probably lamenting that the _sex mood_ was over since a chicken scented spouse was hardly an image that screamed _love_.

Ick.

Pulling me up he then let me fold towards him, pillowed beneath his arm in the cool morning breeze, with our happy pooch thumping his tail on my other side as the three of us looked towards the slowly rising sun, which was starting to peek over the mountains already and was starting to turn the horizon hazy blue.

I hummed a thoughtful note out at no one,

"I think lakeside."

"What was that wife?"

"Oh, didn't really realize I'd said that out loud. Um, I said I think I want a house overlooking the lakeside. But, if you want the hills then — ,"

Dean kissed my temple,

_Mwah_.

"Don't care. If you want lakeside, then that's fine with me kid."

I folded back into him and then tried not to cry, because that was it, we really _were _moving back to my hometown, to be near my memories and the beautiful landscape and Kel. Oh god, Kelly was going to scream.

"I'll tell her next week when they come to the taping."

Dean hummed back at me,

"Tell who what?"

"Kel."

"Get them sweet tickets or way up in the nosebleeds?"

I smiled back smugly at him,

"Nope. Front row."

Because that was the _other _home based thing that was happening, since the very next week the show was hitting my hometown state and while naturally my little birth town was too small for its _own_ show, the arena was only two hours away and so therefore I had scored my best friend and her husband a couple of complementary passes to come and watch, which evidently the pair of them were so totally pumped up for that they were bringing accessories.

"Kelly said she's making a sign."

"Uh oh."

"I _think_ there might be a mention of Roman."

"Poor fuckin' Brent."

Dean snorted fondly then shook his head, since we both knew that anything dreamt up by Kelly – and especially where our poor Big Dog was involved – would likely be ever so slightly on the crude side. Or you know, pornographic. It was kind of hard to call, although her actually being there at ringside to see us would make it all so much better.

Wisconsin.

I swallowed and then bit my lip,

"Do you think — ,"

Dean stopped me before I could say it,

"Princess, I promised to keep you safe an' I will, so_ if_ he shows up, then I will personally murder him."

"Oh."

Both of us knew who the unspoken _he _was, since Andy, my possible – probable – stalker, had been on our minds pretty much all week and especially since being back home in Wisconsin meant being where he was, which Andy must have known too.

Dean held me closer,

"Lauren, you listen to me here, you are gonna be _fine_."

I nodded back at him,

"I know."

But when I fell asleep having washed off the canine slobber and folded into bed in the early morning light, the dark nightmare hands came back up and pushed me and just like that, I was falling and falling again.

Damn.

* * *

**So, who is ready to start building towards the crazy? Well, good news, because from next week, we're definitely getting there folks and it's all going to kick off with an unexpected visitor and a very surprise announcement.**

**Be there or be square!**


	13. All Out Of Luck

**Well, welcome to this crazy (in real life) week everyone. Dean is now officially Mox, he's gone to AEW, he's explained why he left etc. etc. Won't lie, the thought of him not being on the road every week with Roman (and Seth) is still kind of a bit of a downer. I loved the thought of those two side by side, goofing off, I mean, who doesn't want a road trip with their best friend every week? But hey, at least I get to keep on making all that crap up in my head and writing about it. So, without further ado, let's get on with this story, shall we?**

**xXBalorBabeXx, I can confirm or deny nothing at this point (as usual) so you'll just have to read to find out who turns up in this chapter (hope you like it though!) Also, we'll get some more of Kelly in the following chapters, so hopefully all questions will be answered soon!**

**Wolfgirl2013, Nice guess, but nope, not this time!**

**Mandy, Aww, well good luck! My mum broke her ankle last week, so she needs some surgery, but other than that we are well. As for Seth in real life? Well, there's two sides to every story and Dean/Jon, Roman and Renee all like him, so he can't be that bad. And he's not that bad in this chapter either…**

**Minnie1015, Are you ready for the crazy? Because the twist in this chapter is definitely pretty left field. I defy anyone to have guessed it (no idea where it came from either. Let's call it a bolt out of the blue!)**

**HannonsPen, Well, here is the beginning of the crazy chapters. Although this one is more **_**huh?**_ **than anything else. Building to super duper crazy though, so strap in!**

**Skovko, Well, don't worry, the stalker thing is going to come to a head pretty soon and well before they have the chance to move. We're creeping towards the end of this thing, which means...yep...drama!**

**Debwood-1999, I like the way your mind works, but in this case, not quite. I plan on Dean and Lauren doing the whole kids thing at some point, but not yet. Although pregnancy might come into things somewhere in this story...just not with Lauren!**

**I-Am-WarKitten, Hope you like this chapter! And hmm, funny you should mention Mox, because I'm just writing a Mox story, albeit pre WWE Mox (roughly in the same universe as the Squeaker series) so be sure to look out for that!**

**Phoenix lord of rebirth, Aww, thank you, I'm very fond of my brand of crazy, although I never thought of it as a USP. I will now though! Hopefully this is very much in the same vein as the crazy you're used to and it's going to continue on in the next few chapters too.**

**Right, back in the time machine to 2014 folks...**

* * *

**All Out Of Luck**

Elbowing my way through the cluster of bodies with my phone clamped to my ear, I squinted and scanned the crowd, who were bellowing and buzzing with pre taping expectation as they spilt over the sidewalk beyond the arena doors. But none of whom of mattered to me like the people I was looking for who were buried within them.

I blinked,

"Okay, so tell me _exactly_ where you are again?"

"In front of the entrance," Kelly shouted back, in a bellow that practically blew off my ear lobes.

"Okay," I nodded, "I'm nearly there."

_Ouch_.

As a man with no concept of spatial awareness elbowed me clean in the middle of the boob, I winced and then shot him my very best death glare — which wasn't too impressive — while Kelly carried on,

"We're stood next to the man with the inflatable crocodile."

"Um, okay then."

I narrowed my eyes across the crowd but then finally honed in on something borderline reptilian over to my left beside a little low wall and next to a buxom blonde woman in stilettos and a top that showcased her envious shape and whose perfectly manicured baby pink fingernails were clamped to a cell phone.

_Aha_.

"Got you, here I come."

Slaloming through the bodies I kept my phone held up in the hopes that it would help me blend in, since I had mostly been hoping to fly beneath the radar and not cause too much excitement or else an autograph stampede. Not that I was the most popular person in the company, since that role had recently gone to Dean, but people loved anyone that they knew from their TV screens.

Not that best friend much helped my anonymity,

"Laurie, woohoo. Over here."

_Darn_.

But in spite of the shouting I bustled towards them positively bursting with an ear to ear beam and then fell heavily into the hold of my bestie as we squealed in tandem like we had been parted for years. Brent scratched the back of his neck and then chuckled. He was holding her purse.

"Sweetie, we saw her three weeks back."

Kelly snorted,

"But she was hopped up on pills then and besides, it was three and a _half_ weeks, which is totally longer."

I giggled at her,

"Yep," then cinched my hold in a little bit tighter before letting her loose and then moving onto Brent, who was looking a whole lot more casual than his wife was in a pair of khaki shorts and a wrestling tee, that had likely just been bought from a hawker, since it neither fitted properly nor had the catchphrase printed right, but if nothing else showed that he was at least having fun there and so I plucked at it teasingly,

"A Cena fan huh?"

Brent scratched the back of his head in embarrassment and then flapped a loose hand,

"Dean Ambrose shirts sold out a couple of hours back."

"Naturally," I grinned, before reaching up regardless and sweeping my arms around him super tight. He lifted me up off my toes and I really was a big teddy bear and I had missed him so much. Roman was like that too come to think of it and speaking of which —

I turned to Kelly with a wince,

"Um, dare I ask to see the infamous banner?"

Brent blew a breath out and then handed over the hefty knapsack on his shoulder from which there a large piece of rolled up paper poking out. Kelly took it from him and pulled it out proudly before unfastening the ribbon and then unfurling the thing, which revealed more sparkles than I would ever have thought possible and a sentence in red with an illustration too.

Oh my —

I blinked back at it in wide eyed astonishment.

"Do you like it?"

"Holy — Kel, this is a _family_ show."

Brent snorted back in a measure of humor which I presumed meant that the two of them had broached the topic before, then hustled to take back the very graphic banner as a small boy beside them tried to work out what it said. His mother glanced up too and based on her open mouthed horror look either saw the final line or else the anatomically correct cartoon.

Kelly shrugged her shoulders without a hint of embarrassment,

"Consider it a lesson in biology. Especially sex."

Fortunately for her though my reply about maybe burning it was abruptly cut off by the crowd noise picking up, as the main entrance to the venue was finally unbolted to release the excited fans — _and_ their crude banners — into the halls to fill up on beer and food.

It was go time.

"Here."

I fished out their tickets and then handed them over like I was doing an illegal deal, but which was actually because they had the words _front row_ printed in bold type and I was worried about kick starting a riot or worse.

Kelly hugged me a second time,

"Thanks sweetie."

"Anything for my bestie. Enjoy."

Behind us the swarm of bodies was moving and not wanting to be swept with them as they flooded the venue, I instead tried to pick my way back through the mob, thankfully managing to bypass elbow-boob man, but at the same finding a few eyes blinking my way as a handful of people started to notice me.

Oops.

I put my head down and picked up the pace. Because as much as I liked having the chance to meet the fan base, who pretty much across the board had been lovely to me, being stranded in a crowd of match hungry strangers was possibly not the _best_ plan in the world and besides which, Dean had already been antsy about me heading out beyond the safety of the backstage area on my own. _Particularly_ with my former flame come probable stalker out there.

Handsy Andy.

I shivered and then pulled my lanyard out, which I flashed to the beefcake on security at the back entrance who nodded at me curtly and let through the door, which led into a maze of typical boring whitewash. Although _Wisconsin_ whitewash, which made it better.

_Woo_. Badger state rules.

Dean was leant back casually on the brickwork, cracking his taped knuckles but he stopped when I skipped up and then let his hands fall low to cup my hip bones in a possessive little motion I found both comforting and hot.

"Kelly and Brent make it in okay?"

"Yep, think so."

I tiptoed up to kiss him then leaned my body into his, hands pressed flat up over his heartbeat as he laced his own behind me to rest loosely across my butt. His blue eyes blinked back at me with a teasing little half smile and it made me tremble and then shut out the rest of the world. I mean, the presidential helicopter could have landed beside us and still been less impressive the perfect view I had.

Dean brushed my hair back,

"Looks like someone is feelin' happy to be home, huh?"

I hauled a teasing breath in,

"Yep. I mean, even the _venues_ smell a little bit sweeter. Is that even possible?"

Dean blinked,

"Uhh."

Because the answer was pretty much a big _no_ no that one, since the bowels of _every_ arena smelt like men and stale sweat. Dean pulled me close then nuzzled into my neckline, which instantly made my tickle reflex erupt as he rumbled both low and huskily beside my cheek bone, so that my whole head buzzed from it.

"Know what smells sweeter to me?"

"What?"

I breathed the word out in little more than a whisper, then braced a hand hard flat back against the wall, because I felt like my body was melting towards him and needed the stability to stop me from becoming ball of mush and _especially_ as his lips brushed in over my ear lobe.

Good lord he was Satan and he knew it.

"My wife."

His kiss was pressed in over me before I could respond to him and even as the beautiful rush of the _spouse _word bubbled on, since it was still kind of new and I freaking _loved_ hearing it. I smooched him back harder, with my hands in his hair like I was racing the clock and trying to memorize his body for some couples experiment.

_Hmm_.

Vince would have probably loved that.

Although as it turned out we were both so heavily into our lip lock that we had pretty much both totally forgotten where we were and so therefore neither one of us paid any attention to the person striding towards us until they were practically on our toes and who then chose to lead with a sneer of condescension that echoed off the brickwork.

"Do you two _ever_ stop?"

Uh oh.

Dean broke our passionate clinch in a heartbeat, his head turned so fast that I was worried it might snap and which brought him face to face with his brother, or at least his _former _brother since our loyal powerhouse was still laid up. Dean's face darkened and his fists curled up so fast that I was forced to clamp one and soothe it in between my palms in case it suddenly shot out without warning.

His voice was a growl,

"Rollins? The fuck do _you_ want? 'Cos if you're lookin' for the briefcase, then I got some bad news for ya."

For once though instead of biting, Seth winced guiltily.

"Lauren — damn it, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

But not that I had to wait long for the answer, because at that exact moment two forms rounded the bend, chatting like the pair of them were old friends or something, but which all of us knew in a heartbeat they were _not_, since as far as I knew they were pretty much strangers and which was therefore why I gaped.

It was Andy and Steph.

As in Andrew freaking Taylor and my Greek Gorgon of a stepmom, strolling round backstage like it was a super normal thing and not – more correctly – the weirdest thing ever.

I spluttered a word out,

"Andy?"

He suddenly stopped, at which point they both seemed to notice me stood there. He blinked and then looked sheepish, which was actually kind of nice since at least _he_ had the decency to be slightly embarrassed, whereas Stephanie merely sneered and –

Dear god I loathed her.

I mean at this point did her face even _do_ anything else? Or had the wind changed one day when she hadn't been looking and stuck her like that?

She beamed,

"Oh Lauren. _There_ you are. I thought I might have missed you before you went out to commentary. Allow me to introduce you to my brand new best friend. Although, wait. I _think_ you might have met him already. Andy, do you know Lauren?"

"What are you _doing_ here?" I hissed,

"I – ,"

Andy opened his mouth to answer only Steph got there first,

"I invited him," she sneered, "I thought it might be nice for you two former lovebirds to _catch up_ and, — you know — reminisce on old times and all the fun things that you used to get up to."

Had I mentioned I hated her?

Because I really _really_ did. Steph didn't want to engineer a reunion. What she _wanted_ to try and monumentally piss off Dean and stick a billionaire spanner in our marriage and just generally make sure that he took his eyes off _them_ and let them get on with their latest evil dealings. _Especially_ with Roman being away.

Except –

Nope.

No _way_ in hell was that going to happen. Because my husband was too smart to fall for that shit and _way_ too awesome and in control of his emotions and –

"You son of a freakin' bitch."

Huh?

He launched across the space, grabbing Andy up by the front of his collar – because of _course_ he was wearing a button down shirt – and then slamming him back hard into the brickwork as Seth flew in after him.

"Dean, whoa, hey. Easy man."

"_Ambrose_," Steph yelled, only my husband wasn't listening. He was too busy snarling at the person who'd hurt me once. Or _more_ than once if you factored in the groping and not to mention the breaking my actual elbow part.

Yep.

It sure did suck to be Andy.

"What did I tell you asshole? What did I tell you? Didn't I tell you to stay away from her? Because I'm pretty sure I did. Broke your fuckin' nose an' everythin', an' yet here we are, nine months down the line with you freakin' sendin' her creepy ass messages an' _then_ freakin' showin' your face where she _works_."

"Dean," Seth hissed, "Leave him alone. Back up, man."

Pushing him away Seth slotted in between, breaking up the two warring factions. If my ex could even be _counted_ as a faction that was, since he was mostly just blinking in measures of confusion.

Not to mention alarm.

"What messages?" he frowned, as he haughtily straightened his mildly rumbled shirt out and then neatened his tie.

Yep. His _actual_ tie.

In the background Steph waved a hand then rolled up her eyes. Her presence as reassuring as an oil tanker fire.

"Evidently our dear Lauren has a little stalker problem."

Ouch.

"I'm sorry?" Andy coughed, his eyes wide, "Did — did you say _stalker_?"

His total obliviousness caught me surprise and kind of threw me off my game, since frankly his acting had never been _that_ good and certainly not when he was doing it on the hoof. So maybe he really _didn't_ know what we were talking about.

My husband however seemed less converted.

"Oh come on. Are you freakin' kiddin' me with this shit?" he barked at them, "Are you really gonna stand there an' pretend this wasn't you, or freakin' make out you've _changed_ or some crap, when the last thing you did was force yourself on her? Get off — ,"

The last part of the sentence was spat out at Rollins. The semi murderous former brother who was holding him back. He also threw in a flat handed shove for good measure, which made Seth stumble and then crash hard into a packing crate.

"_Oof_ — ,"

"Ambrose," Steph bellowed pointing a nail in his direction as Andy spluttered behind her. Because, yep, hiding behind a much smaller woman. Always a manly look.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Dean growled,

"Once a gutless weasel freakin' _always_ a weasel dude. I mean do you even know how fuckin' _scared _she was? Is that how you get your rocks off, huh asshole? Do you like scarin' women?"

Andy turned white,

"What? No – ,"

"_Dean_."

Heaving himself back up off the packing crate, Seth performed a rapid skid across the floor, arriving just in time to again push Dean backwards and probably stopping him from fucking Andy up.

"Ambrose, I'm warning you," Stephanie shouted as things went from bad to bad and then to worse and as everyone started to talk at the same time.

My head hurt.

_Ugh_.

"Keep away from my freakin' wife."

"But, I _told_ you — ,"

"Dean, hey easy, calm down man."

"Fuck you."

"Ambrose listen, I won't tell you again. This man is under my personal protection – ,"

"He's a jackass."

"I'm – ,"

"And believe me I will suspend your ass if you lay so much as a grubby _hand _on him for. Do I make myself clear?"

"He's fuckin' _stalkin'_ Lauren."

_Boom_.

Andy exploded, pretty much from out of nowhere in a bellow so loud it echoed out into the hall and then bounced off the walls, complete with a spittle fleck,

"God damn it, I'm _gay_."

I blinked at him,

"You're what?"

"_You're what_?" my wicked stepmother screeched louder, as everyone froze like in a slapstick cartoon, where someone is trying to crack a safe open and yells at an ongoing fistfight to be quiet.

"You're gay?"

It was the first time I had spoken uninterrupted in two minutes. Not that I would have been heard much before. I mean, I could have recited the Pledge of Allegiance or the Gettysburg Address in all of the noise and nobody would have known it over the shouting. Although suddenly there I was, back front and centre.

Andy frowned,

"But – but I told you already. When we met in town a couple of weeks ago."

I gaped,

"_What_? No you didn't."

Because I would have remembered if the man that I had frittered ten years of my life on had randomly announced in the street that he was gay and on our very first meeting since he had drunkenly groped me.

Yep.

I _definitely_ would have recalled that.

"B-but," he stammered, "I showed you the picture. O-of me and my boyfriend."

"Toni?"

"Yes," he nodded back,

"But how can Toni be — ,"

Oh dear god.

It was Tony with a _y_. He really _had_ told me about it in the street and I hadn't realized because, well, why _would _I? Plus his stupid thumb had been over the shot and –

Holy freaking crap.

My ex-boyfriend was gay.

No wonder he'd been so damn weird at the reunion. He must have been trying to figure himself out and besides which I guess it made sense of on some level, considering he had always been so fashion conscious and apathetic to other women and so _vanilla _in bed.

Andy liked men and I had never realized.

_God_.

I felt like the stupidest person alive.

Had he been laughing at me? Cheating on me? My head spun. Although, on the plus side Steph's smirking had stopped, presumably because a very newly outed gay man was not _quite_ the marital threat she'd had in mind. So, you know, silver and linings and all _that_ jazz.

Maybe.

"I'm sorry. You're _gay_?" Steph barked confirming my theory in a neat McMahon nutshell, "And you didn't think to – I don't know – _mention_ that before?"

In the background my husband huffed a growl at his brother,

"Get off me dude."

"Fine," Seth put his hands up at once as he sensed that the pulsating anger had tapered — and yet there he had been again. Stepping in to help. Stepping in to help _us_ out to be specific, which I would probably have grinned at had my head not been a mess. Dean padded over to where I was standing, hugging myself and sort of blinking into space.

"Hey," he grunted, rubbing my shoulders and then ducking his head down so he could look at me, "You okay?"

I shook my head at him,

"No, not really."

"Fuck. Come on Princess," he took me by the arm, turning the both of us away up the corridor and further and further from Andy and Steph, who were still busy fighting over his non-obligation to announce his sexual preferences to a madwoman he barely knew.

He noticed me going though.

"Lauren?"

I shuddered and in response Dean tucked me in under his arm and then pressed my head down into his shoulder as he steered me past boxes and incoming production crew.

"Easy baby, I'm gettin' you away from 'em. We're gonna go somewhere nice an' quiet ya hear?"

But oddly that wasn't the reason I was shaking. Or, okay, so maybe it was. At least in _part_. Because the _real_ reason seemed deeper and darker and more elusive. Oh and add way more confusing to that as well, which I murmured as Andy kept calling from behind us and as Seth held him back.

God.

What was going on with Seth and what was going on with _anything_ at the moment?

"But," I hiccupped as we rounded the bend and as the weight of the world promptly landed on my rib cage, "If Andy's not the stalker, then who's sending the messages?"

Dean blinked for a second and then groaned,

"Aw fuck."

* * *

**Next week, we finally get to find out who's behind the texts and things take an even more worrying turn. You won't want to miss it...or at least I hope you won't...please don't!**


	14. The Third Man

**Well, here we go, strap in. The big reveal folks and yes, things are going to get dramatic from here, although hopefully not **_**quite**_** in the way people expected. If you need me I'll be over here evilly stroking my super villain white cat…**

**Rebel8954, Yep, Dean's emotions are unpredictable at the best of times but definitely where Lauren is involved. I think Seth was brave for even trying...well, brave or stupid... possibly both?**

**Debwood-1999, Well, the answers you seek are inside this chapter *waves hands mysteriously* but your theory is a great one though and I love that you cared enough about my story to put it together. I really hope you like how this chapter pans out.**

**Skovko, Andy being gay was a last minute addition, but once I imagined him yelling it in front of everyone it had to go in! Plus, it does actually explain a lot of things. Although yeah, some of this chapter is Lauren coming to terms with it. Poor girl, I sure out her through it sometimes!**

**xXBalorBabeXx, Yeah, Andy's news was definitely a curveball. As for him lying? Well, I'll leave you in suspense until the end/middle of this chapter and then we'll find out who our stalker is.**

**Minnie1015, Well, because you've been so patient (and yep, I do love to drag the suspense out!) you finally get your big reveal here...followed instantly by another cliffhanger because...well, just because. Hope you like who our stalker really is!**

**Wolfgirl2013, Thank you! Big dramatic stalker unveiling in this one.**

**Moxley Gal1, That is a good guess, but not quite right. It's someone they both know, although Lauren might know them a little bit better. Or at least, she probably thought she did. Hope you like it!**

**Mandy, Thank you, she's pretty bummed out at the moment, but beginning to move around a little better on the crutches. It's just one of those things I guess. Yeah, I'm still getting my head around him being !ox again. I'll miss Dean (and I'll especially miss Dean and Roman) but I'm glad he's happy. Hope you enjoy this chapter, lots of things are happening!**

**I-Am-WarKitten, Ha, well done calling the swerve. I do love a story with twists and turns in it to try and keep everyone on their toes. Yep, Seth was doing his best to help there while at the same time still pretending not to care...not that Dean appreciated his efforts. **

**Phoenix lord of rebirth, Ooh, glad you liked it. Bit more crazy in this one coming up for ya! Andy comes from stories one and two of this saga. But the abridged version is that he was Lauren's teenage long-term boyfriend who wasnt very nice. Although at least now we know he had his reasons (sort of)**

**Ladies and gentlemen welcome to the madness, please fasten your seatbelts and keep your hands inside the vehicle at all times...**

* * *

**The Third Man**

"Andy is gay," I murmured blankly into the corridor. Because frankly it seemed worth going over more than once, or twenty nine times or however much I'd said it in the space of the past five minutes, "My former boyfriend is gay. Super gay. Always has been. Always _knew_ it more than likely and I never realized for a second."

"Princess, hey – ,"

Dean moved forward to put his hands over my elbows with a waft of leather and hot spicy cologne, which usually would easily have bust through my ramblings.

But nope. Not this time.

"Do – do you think maybe it's something that_ I_ did?" I squeaked in pure panic, "Is it _my_ fault somehow? Did I turn him gay? Was I not enough for him? Because I know I wasn't the most proactive girlfriend in the world, but that was how we were, it wasn't a racy relationship. But I never actually _meant_ for it to put him off girls or – ,"

"Lauren, hey, whoa."

Dean reached up and pinched my chin tip, using it to tilt my head back towards his face and away from the stack of packing boxes I was sat on, wringing my hands over and over in my hem, like a brand new father on a chair in maternity.

Dean's handsome face was hanging low before mine, looking at me in the same way he always had. With nothing but love and a wry smile.

"Princess, hey. Come on you didn't freakin' turn the man gay here."

I blinked at him,

"But – ,"

"But _nothin_' okay? Him likin' men doesn't change shit, ya hear me? An' it definitely – fuckin' _definitely_ – wasn't your fault. Princess are you kiddin' me? _Not bein' proactive_? What with that sexy little sex tips notebook you got?"

I bit my lip in and Dean pulled it out again,

"Do – do you think?"

"I freakin' _know_," he offered back, "An' besides, if you're so good at freakin' turnin' men off women, then how do you explain me even wantin' to do this?"

"Do wha – ,"

I squeaked as he pretended to tweak my nipple which made several backstage crew members turn around and look, since there weren't many places in a crowded arena five minutes before showtime to be properly alone, _or _absorb the fact that the man I'd been involved with for ten years of my life was attracted to men.

I hissed at him,

"_Dean_."

"Kinda proved my freakin' point though."

Oh. I blinked. I guess he had and okay, so maybe I was ever so slightly overreacting.

I sighed,

"I know, I know, I'm freaking out it. But it just – I don't know – kind of caught me off guard a little. Like, _boom_ from out of nowhere. Suddenly he's gay. Or okay, not _suddenly_ because I mean if you think about it then it kind of makes sense in the grand scheme of things and especially with him being so angry at the reunion. He must have been trying to work things out."

Dean shook his head,

"Nope."

"No?"

"No," he echoed back, clenching his teeth so that his strong jaw stood out, "_None_ of that shit makes up for what he did to you. Doesn't make up for him freakin' forcin' you to kiss him, or lettin' himself into your mom's fuckin' house, or for breakin' your elbow that one time. Because as far as I'm concerned the guy is still a slimy asshole who needs his head speared off. Freakin' gay or not gay."

_Hmmm_.

I hummed a note out then wrapped my arms around him, because, okay so he was pissed but he was pissed off _for me_ and that would always be a very good feeling,

"I love you so much."

"Back atcha wife," he grunted in reply, before leaning in to kiss me, which I broke with a giggle before leaning back playfully,

"But just to clarify here, you're not attracted to Roman at all are you and have you ever wanted to lick up and down his tattoo?"

"The fuck – ," Dean barked looking totally horrified, which was what I had been going for. Because _crap_ he was cute, "Jesus, why would you even _say _somethin' like that? Princess, I feel fuckin' _nauseous_ over here."

He pretended to retch which made him look like a street cat and made me giggle and then drag him in for another kiss. Because so what if my one time former boyfriend was gay now? I was married and super duper happily to boot, which meant that Andy _could_ have become a transgender woman, or an elephant, or a drag act or a million things between and it wouldn't have dented my perfect existence with the man of my dreams.

Dean nipped my bottom lip before laying down a palm where my spine and my ass met to bring me closer, like he wanted to press my body through his chest, which was okay by me since I would have stayed there forever –

Had his cell phone not rung and interrupted things.

Damn.

Although at least on the plus side it wasn't _my_ cell phone and my _Not Andy_ stalker, so you know, every cloud.

Dean blew a snort out.

"Hey wife, a little help here?" his palms were still flattened out over my back and his lips were hovering so closely in front of me that we could have been sharing the same piece of gum, which by the way was cool extra strong spearmint.

"On it," I chirped walking my hand across his butt and tweaking a cheek as I plucked loose his cell phone before clearing my throat. Ahem, "Dean Ambrose's cell, his lovely and glamorous better half speaking."

"You sure are baby girl."

"_Roman_," I gasped as Dean decided to repay the _better half_ schtick by dropping his head down into my neck and then blowing air over my sensitive collarbone, which made me squeal across the line.

Roman chuckled,

"Uh oh. I mean, do I even_ want_ to know what's happening?"

"Um," I giggled, "Nope probably not. Although basically your brother is being horribly abusive and – ,"

"Princess gimme that."

Dean grabbed for the phone, which I dodged by slipping loose under his elbow before making a break from the box and down the hall, like some sort of slippery government ninja. Or, well, for about point four seconds that was as Dean hooked the back of my pants with a finger and made me windmill my arms like a sixties cartoon. But not that Roman needed to know that and so I carried on merrily like nothing was wrong,

"How do you feel uce?"

_Uce._

He chuckled,

"Actually I was going to you ask the same thing. Ready for your first hometown taping this evening?"

Not that we were in my _actua_l hometown of course, since my cute little birthplace was lovely and quiet and so couldn't have handled the crazy of a show. But we _were_ only an hour away from my mom's house and – more importantly – Kelly and Brent were there too, plus it just kind of _felt _like Wisconsin, so it may as well have been my hometown.

"Kelly made you a sign," I winced, as my husband began to reel me in backwards like some sort of helpless fish on a line. But a cute one like an angel fish or maybe a flounder, "She _may_ have drawn a little diagram too and then added a few – um – _explicit_ annotations."

"Does she know I'm not there?"

I nodded,

"She does."

I had told her myself and it was referenced on her banner, which at best was an offer to help nurse him through it and at worst was a drawing of her giving him a bath, with detail that would have made Botticelli proud of her as the horrified woman from outside had experienced and which would probably show up super well on the screen.

He chuckled,

"So exactly how explicit are we talking here?"

"Um, maybe don't watch with the mother of your child? Or your mother, or your child, or anyone who loves you, or – no, you know what? I've changed my mind. Just don't watch."

"Damn," Roman smiled, "So it's really that bad huh?"

"Yep," I nodded, "Plus she's in the front row too, with all of the kids from the Make a Wish Foundation so – ,"

Dean pulled me backwards into his arms and then slipped the cell phone out of my fingers as he slung a pinioning arm around my neck, keeping me pressed spine-to-chest against his body and then smirking as I squeaked and tried my best to get loose. Or _pretended_ to at least, because god he smelt glorious.

He grunted,

"Look, freakin' forget all of that, because we kinda got ourselves a bigger problem here. Hey uce."

"Hey brother," Roman chuckled, because dear lord they were cute and obviously really missing each other, even though they were men so they would never say that. _Roar_, "So what shady shit has the boss pulled this time?"

Dean snorted,

"What you mean like invitin' Laurens ex, so the pair of them can _catch up_ on old times or whatever an' reminisce an' all that shit?"

Roman barked,

"She what? God damn."

I winced,

"But I mean, it turned out okay though. Or not _okay _okay," I was rambling again, "Because actually it was all sort of horribly awkward and super _duper_ weird. But on the plus side he's gay, so_ that's_ a whole thing now."

"Who's gay?" I could practically _hear_ Roman's frown,

"Her ex-boyfriend," Dean grumbled as I stress kicked the lighting box, because _he_ liked to hit and kick things when he was mad and it made him feel better, so I thought it might help me, although I used my bad foot which stabbed at my ankle and made me hiss,

"Ooh crap."

Dean pulled me back,

"Princess hey, take it easy, because m' pretty sure the position of resident lunatic here is filled."

I nodded,"

"Good point,"

"Hold up," Roman countered, because – oops, yep – uce was still on the line and probably trying to wrap his brain round what was happening, which I hardly blame him for since frankly, so were Dean and I. Andy was gay and I hadn't freaking seen it. Maybe it was a good thing that Roman wasn't there, since Kelly making googly eyes at him was standard, but my former _lover _doing it too would have been weird, "What has that asshole being gay got to do with it? Other than the shock. You okay baby girl?"

I sucked in a breath,

"Um, yep I think so."

"_Because_," Dean groused, getting down to the point, "In that case who the fuck has been sendin' the messages? An' what the hell are they tryin' to get in return?"

"Maybe it's a fan," Roman offered in response to him, "I mean it's not like they can't get crazy from time to time and a smart one could probably hack into her cell phone."

Oh great. So my stalker was a tech freak? _That _helped.

Not.

Because what if he had always been able to see me? On hidden monitors, or on traffic cameras, or could hear me _and_ see me through my phone? It had almost been easier when I'd thought it _was_ Andy, or Stephanie, or Hunter or_ any_ of them, since at least I had kind of known what I was dealing with.

But this?

This was worse. This was _totally_ worse.

Dean huffed,

"Well whoever the fuck it is m' gonna kill 'em, an' m' gonna make it painful an' real freakin' slow, like by carvin' their eyes out with a freakin' spoon or somethin', or by squeezin' their windpipe until they – ,"

"Mr Ambrose?"

We both looked up. A runner from production was standing in front of us clutching a clipboard and blinking in alarm, like maybe she had walked in on a scene from The Sopranos, or Dean rolling an FBI informant into the bay.

He frowned back at her,

"What?"

"Oh uh – ," she jumped a mile then straightened her glasses, "They need you upstairs, for some promo shots for the upcoming tour dates."

"Of course they freakin' do – ,"he grumbled in response before rolling his baby blue eyes to the heavens and then huffing down the line, "Gotta go, sorry uce. Because _someone_ in this crazy marriage needs to put food on the table."

I blinked at him,

"_Hey_, full time commentator here and besides – ,"

"Sssh," Dean covered my lips with a finger, "Be good an' I might buy you somethin' pretty to wear."

"I'll buy _you_ something pretty," I muttered which, okay, was not the _best _comeback in the world, but on the plus side it made him let out a low little chuckle, which was goofy and husky and _so _freaking cute. Like somebody strapping a switchblade to a kitten but painting googly eyes on it.

Yep. That was my man.

He thumbed my cheek,

"Hey you gonna be okay back here? Not gonna go lookin' for trouble while m' gone?"

I pouted,

"Oh come on. I do _not_ look for trouble. Uce, back me up here."

"No can do baby girl – ," Roman chuckled super fondly in the background, "Because I gotta go ahead and side with Ambrose on this."

"Traitor," I murmured as Dean leaned forward to peck my forehead before handing the cell phone over and trampling away. Oh and he _also_ swiped his hand across my ass cheek. Hard too.

"_Dean_."

He turned with a grin then bit on the tip of his tongue and threw a wink at me before rounding the corner and disappearing from view, at which point I figured the runner would follow. Only, nope.

I blinked awkwardly,

"Um, was there something else?"

She nodded then glanced around like we were in a spy movie and she was preparing to hand me stolen nuclear codes, or a top secret algorithm or poison or something.

I frowned,

"Uh, hey uce? I'm going to have to call you back."

"Everything okay baby girl?" he asked suspiciously, no doubt hearing the _huh _in my tones and moving pretty rapidly into big brother mode, which was the thing I missed most about not having him around.

I nodded and then remembered he couldn't actually see me.

"Yep, all good, no trouble I swear. I mean it's probably just a spot for the website or something, so no need to worry."

He chuckled,

"If you say so Mrs Ambrose."

Mrs Ambrose.

_Ooh_.

"I do and besides," I added with a hint of remorsefulness, "You should probably go and pour a double whisky before the show, in case Kelly's love letter ends up getting any airtime."

"Nah," he rumbled back, "I got a better plan than that. Gonna shut me and the wife in the panic room."

"You have a _panic room_?"

"Not yet baby girl. But trust me, I will have by the show."

Grinning I rolled my eyes up and then bit a laugh back before telling him to get better with a cheery goodbye and then slipping Dean's cell phone into my bra cup, since my own pant suit pockets were crammed full of _my_ stuff. Like my compact mirror, a lipstick and _my_ phone, since no way could I take a purse out with me to commentary without having JBL laugh in my face. Or without having it crushed by a wrestler, or buried beneath debris when the announce desk took a hit.

The nervy looking runner was still stood behind me and so I pasted on a smile and then spun back around, feeling a little bad she'd been waiting for so long.

"So," I chirped brightly, "How can I help?"

Her answer was definitely not what I expected. At all. Even remotely.

"Your boyfriend's outside."

"My _what_?"

I blinked and then actually let out a giggle snort, which was by no means the most flattering sound to have made, but then what did she expect? Because – I'm sorry – my _boyfriend_?

She nodded,

"Uh huh. I mean, that's what he said. He said he was your boyfriend and he needed to see you."

"Who did?" I pressed, since it seemed a crucial point.

She shrugged,

"I'm not sure, he didn't say a name or anything. But he definitely seemed like he didn't want to be there. Kind of awkward looking, oh and he had dark hair and a beard – ,"

_Wait_.

I blinked,

"Do you mean Andy?"

Because, it sure _sounded_ like him and boyfriend and _ex_-boyfriend were pretty similar I guess and so therefore I couldn't blame her confusion. She tilted her head in my direction like a spaniel,

"Who's Andy?"

"_Ugh_. My cruddy high school sweetheart," I replied, "Except it turns out that he's actually gay now and dating a guy called Tony and – ,"

Why was I telling her this? I cleared my throat,

Crap.

"Uh, so whereabouts was he?"

"In the parking lot, out behind the backstage entrance."

"Thanks."

I spun on my heel and then began to stalk away from her. Or okay, _limp_ away since my ankle hurt from kicking the box and I was trying not to look like I was mentally freaking, which I totally was because –

Oh holy crap.

Andy Taylor wanted to talk to me? What for? What could there possibly even be _left_ to say? Although maybe I owed him one last small piece of closure. I mean my stepmother _had_ kind of used him after all.

Behind me the runner spluttered in panic,

"But the show – ,"

"Not a problem," I brightly chirped back, "I won't be long. I'm just going to say goodbye to him. Cover for me."

Yeah. I had no idea what that meant, but plodded off around the corner before she could ask me and then right into the chaos of the halls before a show. Back when I had first started out in the business pretty much precisely one whole year before, the first thing I had ended up falling in love with – not including Dean – was the pre taping hum and how everyone had something to sort or be doing, or somewhere to be.

Like on commentary.

_Oops._

Taking a shortcut through the hair and makeup department, I dodged a rigger then turned through the garage, where the liveried trucks sat waiting for lift off, before pushing through a doorway and then sucking in a breath.

"Andy –," I practised too squeakily, "_Ahem_, Andy – ,"

_God_ I was an idiot.

I should have told Dean. Because, okay, so evidently Andy was gay now, but he was still the man who had broken my arm and _besides _which I _still_ had a minor stalker problem.

But one thing at a time.

I stepped out into the gloom and then blinked between the rows of parked cars beneath the street lamps, looking for the braces and the shirt and the suit, but coming up empty. Ugh, where the hell was he?

"Andy?" I hissed, "If this is some prank, then I am marching back into that arena and – ,"

"Lauren?"

I blinked, because hold up, that wasn't his voice. Although admittedly it _did_ sound strangely familiar and so I whirled around towards it.

There was a man stood in the dark. He was kind of smallish looking but still bigger than I was and skinny too, not to mention hugely sinister as well. Or at least until he stepped right out beneath the lamp light and made me gape in confusion.

"Elliott?"

It was my old friend from school. The strange little guy who had followed us everywhere and who I hadn't seen – or come to think of it _heard_ from – in months. Or more specifically since the night we had gone out for dinner and he had told me that it wasn't my best friend he'd liked at school, but _me _instead. It had _also_ been the night I'd punched him. Right in the kisser So what was _he_ doing there?

"Lauren," he beamed, "I knew it. I knew you'd find me"

Um, what?

He was still stood half in the dark, with one arm completely hidden in shadow, which I might have even noticed had I not been so surprised by the impromptu class get together we were having.

I spluttered at him,

"Elliott? What are you doing here?"

He chuckled,

"Oh please, as if you don't know already."

"Know what?" I blinked, frowning as his face fell a mile and slowly taking in his dark hair and his goatee. Because okay, yep, so he and Andy looked the same. Or not the_ same_ same since Andy was totally uber stylish, whereas Elliott looked more sort of scruffy and wild. Not that him not blinking was much helping matters. Why wasn't he blinking?

"I know you read my texts."

"Texts?" I echoed back before suddenly swallowing.

_Oh god_.

My heart began to thump in triple time and I could taste my mouth turning nauseous and stale. Because was Elliott suggesting –

He couldn't be.

No.

Was Elliott freaking _Thurgood_ my stalker? The guy I'd been having literal nightmares about? Was Elliott the guy who'd scared the crap out of me and made me jittery and tearful and scared to go out? Elliott was the reason I'd looked over my shoulder and been absolutely terrified to look at my phone? It made no sense and yet it made_ total_ sense.

Elliott was my stalker.

No. Just no.

I balled up my fists, then let a year of being in wrestling and dating Dean Ambrose take over me.

_Roar_.

I hissed at him,

"You _ass_," which okay, wasn't Lunatic Fringe style but was still pretty hardball coming from me, "_You_ sent those? Why? You scared the crap out of me. I mean what were you _thinking_? Was this some kind of joke, or a punishment for what happened in the restaurant between us?"

He frowned at me,

"What? No, you don't understand – ,"

"I blamed my father and _stepmother_," I hissed at him, "I made Andy come out in a backstage hall, in front of my husband and a whole bunch of strangers and all this time it was_ you_?"

"Because I love you."

"Oh shut up," I huffed in a very un-me-like sounding sentence.

But then, that was the thing. I wasn't scared anymore, because sure my nameless _faceless_ stalker had been terrifying, but Elliott – well – _wasn't_. He was a slimy little worm and frankly I was more than a little done with his bullshit and the whole damn evening of revelations and old friends.

I pinched my brow,

_Oi_.

"Listen Elliott, this is over. You and I? We're never going to be a thing, because I love Dean and am happily married and you have Rosamie and – ,"

"Rosamie?" he blinked, as if I'd gone stark raving loony at some point, which was an interesting look for a_ stalker_ to have.

"Your girlfriend," I frowned back at him.

He snorted,

"Oh for god sakes. You can't seriously think she and I are still a thing?"

"Um – ," I paused, because yes, stupidly, I had done, since okay so admittedly the last time I had seen them Elliott had been declaring his undying love for me, but I had still thought that he and his non English speaking girlfriend had made a cute couple. _Plus_ I thought I had been clear on the _no way in hell was I ever going to date him_, so why_ would_ he have ditched her?

Poor Rosamie.

"Wait, you're not?"

"Of course not," he hissed, "I dropped her that evening because she couldn't be what I wanted. She could never be you."

I shuddered.

Ewww, gross.

"Elliott – ,"

"I just want to talk to you," his right hand was still stretched out into the dark but probably because of the whole stalker-love part I didn't really pay much attention to that, which of course in hindsight was totally regrettable, "Give me a chance Lauren."

I shook my head,

No.

"Really? Give you another chance at _what_ here exactly? Kissing me without asking, or sending more creepy texts? Because yeah, either way I'm going to need to leave now, before I call security. Or my _wrestler_ husband."

Dean.

Holy cow would he ever be angry.

Not at _me_ –

Well okay, fine. Maybe at me. Or _definitely_ at me for going out there on my lonesome, which was fine because honestly I was with him on that. God I had been stupid.

Elliott sucked a steadying breath in,

"Lauren, I'm going to need you to come with me."

What?

I blinked at him,

"Um, yeah, I'm going to raincheck on that one, since spending _any_ quality time with my stalker isn't high on my list of priorities right now."

Elliott smirked, which wasn't encouraging. In fact it sent a shiver right the way down my spine as something whimpered in the darkness beside him.

Whimpered?

"Like I said to you before Lauren," he snarled, which was a brand new side of him I hadn't seen ever and _hmm_, maybe he _was_ a little scary after all, "I need you to come with me before I do something drastic."

"Drastic?" I repeated, "What does that me – ,"

I stopped.

Because suddenly he stepped fully into the lamplight coaxing something with him from the gloom as he went, which made my heart turn over in horror and confusion and revulsion and everything else. Near the end of the hand which had been thrust into the shadows, was a woman who had her hands tied in front of her waist and who had a knotted handkerchief shoved between her rouged lips and tied back behind a curtain of long blonde hair.

Kel.

Plus a glinting metal object he was pointing right at her and which bounced the light back and stood out for miles because –

Oh holy crap.

This couldn't be happening.

None of it could.

Elliott Thurgood had a gun.

* * *

**So, did anyone see Elliott coming? I know at least one person did (well done!) Next week, well, the madness continues and Dean finds out what's going on.**


	15. Highway To Hell

**Getting to the good stuff now. Only two chapters left after this one, so hold onto your hats!**

**xXBalorBabeXx, Yep. It's a blast from the past, but it's Elliott alright and still very much on the unrequited love train!**

**Skovko, Actually the timing of me posting with the Mox match was a happy accident. I had to take my mum to hospital for ankle surgery and I had lots of free time so thought I might as well post. Did you like the match?**

**ShieldGirlBecky, Surprise! It's Elliott and the good (bad) news is that he's just as creepy as he was and more! The good news is you get some Dean in this chapter and yep, he's not happy (he's also confused!)**

**Mandy, Aww, thanks for your good wishes. Mum's surgery went well and she's home hobbling around on crutches now. Plates come out in six weeks then she can put weight on it again. Fun times (eye roll!) Glad you liked the surprise of Elliott last chapter. I wanted it to be a WTF moment!**

**Wolfgirl2013, Lauren definitely wants to run, but since Elliott has her best friend at gunpoint, she's just going to have to try and outthink him instead...maybe.**

**Minnie1015, Haha, I did think of the fangirls with the tattoo licking! And yes, always room for some Lauren/Dean sweetness, even in amongst all the crazy! Plenty more drama to come in this chapter...and the next chapter come to think of it (which is fine because I know you love it, you drama hog you!)**

**Phoenix lord of rebirth, Ooh yay, sooooo glad you liked the big reveal, even though you're probably a bit confused about who Elliott is. Quick recap; he pops up in the second Lauren and Dean story when they go back to her hometown for a school reunion, which (predictably) doesn't go well! More drama coming up for you here. Hope you enjoy!**

**Here we go again...**

* * *

**Highway To Hell**

In the course of the twelve months I had been with the company, I had been kidnapped, drugged and handcuffed to a bed. Oh, and not to mention had once been held at _knifepoint_. Although that hadn't actually been a wrestling thing –

Anyway. The point was that although I'd been through it, I had never been faced with a handgun before – the fake ones from our action cop movie notwithstanding – which this obviously wasn't.

I swallowed.

_Oh god_.

Kelly was stood breathing hard over the handkerchief her mascara all smudged and badger like around her eyes, which meant that at some point she had probably been crying. I had never seen my best friend crying before. Well, except for when my mom had passed over and back then she had been trying to be the strong one for me. Yet there she was, understandably petrified and on the verge of sobbing.

My heart lurched,

"Kel – ,"

"I'm sorry it had to end up this way Lauren," Elliott sighed briskly like it was one of those things, like dropping toast butter-side down on the counter, or having a bird poop over your truck. He was back to the whole not blinking situation and _holy crap_ were his eyes cold and wild, "I did ask you nicely, but then you refused me, which means that really, you only have yourself to blame for all this."

"Elliott," I choked out, "Elliott please. I'm begging you. Let her go. I'll do – I'll do anything we – we can talk, like you said."

"Oh so _now_ you want to talk then?"

I nodded at him,

"Uh huh,"

Because the longer we talked and therefore _didn't_ shoot people, the more chance I had of someone noticing I was gone. Like a runner, or production, or more than likely my husband, who had a bloodhound like sense of when I needed him near. So talking was good. I was happy with talking, or okay not _happy_ but at the very least prepared.

Elliott shook his head,

"No not here. Too many people, I wanted to take you somewhere special."

My stomach lurched.

Special?

What in the hell did he mean by somewhere _special_? My head flooded with images of kidnapper basement lairs, or bedrooms filled with rose petals and candles, or an isolated cabin in the middle of the woods. None of which were very reassuring. In fact I nearly had a panic attack.

Kelly sucked a sob in and he hissed at her,

"Be quiet."

"But I can't come with you. Not right now," I blurted out, desperate to try and take his focus off Kelly who was absolutely helpless. I mean where had he even _got_ her from? And where was poor Brent? Was he hurt or worse maybe? Elliott frowned and so I hurriedly carried on, trying to sound like I wasn't completely freaking. Which I one hundred percent _was_. I mean, he had a gun, "Um, be-because I should stay for the show first, otherwise people might wonder where I've gone. But after that we can go to your – um – _special place_."

Not that I intended to get to that point.

Because my plan was to somehow haul ass back inside again and then let the cops go and rescue my friend, or more than likely let Dean and some folks we knew save her. Like Ryback and Mark Henry, or The Usos and Seth and –

Hold on a second. Did I just say _Seth Rollins_?

Elliott sneered,

"Oh Lauren, my sweet girl. Do you think really think I'm that much of an idiot?"

I blinked at him,

"No I – ,"

"Don't lie to me," he barked, rattling the handgun, which made Kelly whimper, "I hate it when you lie to me Lauren. It isn't you and that is _exactly_ why I have to get you out of here, to stop them from corrupting you."

"Who?" I frowned back, figuring that he was probably having a breakdown and talking about demons or his imaginary friends.

But nope. Not remotely.

"_Ambrose_," he spat back, saying the word like it was poison on his tongue, "And this whole disgusting wrestling business. You're too good for it Lauren. You're too good for _him_."

"But – ," I spluttered unwisely, "I love him."

Elliott turned a furious shade of fuchsia pink,

"That's what he _wants_ you to think. God you're so brainwashed you can't even see it," he lifted the gun, like maybe he was going to beat his own forehead, then lowered it back down, "I need you to come with me."

"Elliott – ,"

"_Now_," he bellowed out into the darkness, which nearly made Kelly launch out of her heels and her palpable terror made me answer without thinking.

"O-okay," I spluttered, "Just please let her go."

Kelly's eyes widened exponentially.

_No Laurie_.

Because as much as I was frantically trying to save her, there she was doing the same for me, which was touching. Or, I mean – you know – probably _would_ have been had we not been caught in a literal nightmare. Besides which, was there really _no one_ out in the parking lot? Because okay, so I got that the fans were all inside, but did the place not have any security guards? Could no one see what was actually happening?

Elliott shook his head,

"No, Kelly comes with us. At least until I can make you believe me. Now move."

I had no other choice.

Oh god.

Swallowing, I paused and then shakily stepped forward, with my heart and my ankle both pounding like mad. One of them because I had reinjured it earlier and the other one because I had no clue what to do. What was the procedure for gun wielding stalkers? _Was_ there even one? _God_, I wanted Dean so bad. Except he wasn't there because _I_ was the idiot who hadn't told anyone else where she was and so to that end I did the only thing I could think of.

Yep.

I rambled,

"Um, so – ," I started off, my voice being lost beneath the pounding of my heartbeat, "Is this – um – _special place_ somewhere I know? And is it going to be cold? Because I kind of left my jacket and – ,"

"Stop," Elliott hissed and I threw up my hands as a hitch of raw panic bubbled up from my ribcage.

"Ugh? I'm sorry but I'm nervous okay? You have a gun to my best friend's head and I don't know where we're going and – ,"

"No Lauren, I mean stop."

Huh?

We were stood beside a van which was parked up in a shadowed and kidnappy corner and had clearly been specially rented. But for what? Elliott cheerfully jingled a set of keys somewhere behind me and I turned around slowly with both hands held up, mainly because they did it in the movies and so I figured it was the best way to not get shot. Or at least I _hoped_ it was but then what the hell did I know? Kelly was stood with the gun to head and my heart broke into a million pieces for her because this whole mess was _my_ stupid fault. _I_ was the one with the crazy pants stalker and _I_ was the one who had punched him in the face. I bit down a sob and then mouthed at her.

_I'm sorry_.

Elliott flung the doors wide,

"Your carriage awaits. Oh and also, I'm going to need your cell phone."

I blinked at him,

"What?"

"You don't trust me yet and I don't want you making any calls to that meathead until I can undo all the damage he's caused. So come on, come on Muffin you have to hand it over."

Muffin?

Um, okay. Vomit much?

He waggled his fingers and I dithered on the asphalt since on the one hand the man was armed and insane. But on the _other_ hand my cell phone was our one chance of rescue, so if I handed it over then we really would be screwed –

"Now," Elliott snapped, fast losing his patience and as the gun barrel pushed into Kelly's blonde head, I plucked loose my lifeline and held it out shakily,

"Here," I spluttered, "Just don't hurt her, _please_."

"Thank you," he chirped back, with an actual huff sound, like a stressed supply teacher with a rowdy school class, before ushering us both into the back of the rental.

"Don't worry Lauren," he offered from the asphalt, with the gun and my cell phone still clasped in his hand, "I think you're going to like where we're going."

Then he slammed the doors shut as I launched at them.

"_No_. Elliott," I yelled thumping hard at the metal, "Elliott let us out of here. You have to let us go."

Except, that was _kind_ of the problem –

He didn't. Or at least _he_ didn't seem to think so anyway, which is why he then trampled around to the driver's side and turned on the engine before lurching away, which threw me off balance as the van swayed beneath me and put me on my ass.

"Oof – ,"

I was completely freaking out. Probably because the last time I'd been tricked and held captive had been when Hunter and Steph had locked me up five months before, in a hairbrained scheme to split me and Dean up. Which, I mean, thankfully pretty clearly hadn't worked. But holy crap was I getting some flashbacks to being frightened and alone.

Only I _wasn't_ alone this time, which I remembered as Kelly hiccupped into the darkness.

"Oh god, Kel," I choked out with a cough, fumbling in the glow of the emergency lighting and then banging up against her as the van took a bend. It made her grunt and probably didn't help much.

"_Mmph_."

"Oops sorry. Let me untie your hands."

Elliott had bound her with a long length of ribbon, which would have been pretty had it not been pulled tight and then knotted like a billion times at the bottom. Because, _oh come on_. What was he? Some kind of eagle scout?

"Nearly there," I whispered as I tried to tease the end loose, fighting to ignore how shaky she was and the fact that Dean had said expressly _no_ _trouble_ but lo and behold there I was.

_Kidnapped_.

I bit back a sob of despair,

"Did he hurt you are – are you okay? Ugh. I'm such an _idiot_. I mean all this time it was Elliott Thurgood. God. Of _course_ it was. Why didn't I think of that? Well, probably because I was too busy freaking and okay, so _yes_ it could have been anyone and _ugh_ I keep thinking about Dean trying to find me and not knowing where I've gone and – ,"

The ribbon tumbled loose and the second she was free Kelly pulled down the handkerchief and then broke through my ramblings.

"Laurie, I'm so sorry."

I blinked,

Huh?

"Um did you – did you say_ you're_ sorry? Why would _you_ be sorry?"

She gestured,

"For this. Because he was ranting and raving about you and I knew he was going to use me as bait and I was so scared and pathetic that I let him and now look at the pair us."

There was van grime on her palm, which she held up with a look of utter revulsion then tried to brush off. But there was nothing around, since – you know – we were in the midst of being kidnapped, not put up at The Ritz.

"Hold on," I frowned back, "Are you seriously saying that you think this is _your_ fault?"

She nodded,

"Of course, I mean who else's would it be?"

"Um, mine?"

"Yours?" she barked out like I was speaking Swahili, or had suddenly sprouted three heads from my neck, "I don't understand how – how is this _your_ fault?"

"Because Elliott wants me," I spluttered in return, "Because he's been stalking me and sending me messages and – ,"

"But that isn't your fault."

_Oh_.

I frowned. Maybe not and god if the whole thing wasn't suddenly so stupid with us blaming ourselves that I couldn't help but laugh. Almost like I was having a breakdown or something, which clearly my best friend figured as well, since her mascara smudged eyes grew wider like saucers,

"Laurie?" she whispered.

I snorted,

"Sorry Kel, but I mean don't you think it's just a _little_ bit funny that we both blamed ourselves?"

Kelly blinked at me,

"I guess."

But then suddenly she giggled and – okay – so it was shaky and hysterical too, but it was totally a giggle. Or at least it _was_, because suddenly Elliott slalomed a corner which threw me pretty much on _top_ of Kel, who started to bawl because yep, it was hopeless.

"Oh god Laurie – ,"

"Ssh," I whispered, stroking her hair "We're going to be fine. Someone's going to find us and come and get us out of here. Trust me okay?"

I was using Dean's line. Because when things got bad he always asked me to trust him and I always said yes.

_Sniff_.

Kelly rubbed at her nose, which somehow she still managed to make look super glamorous.

"God woman. How in the hell are you so calm?"

I snorted,

"I'm not. Well, I mean, not _really_, but I guess being kidnapped by Bray before helps and Hunter and Steph. Plus I have to look after my bestie."

"And her baby," she whispered. I gaped at her,

"Kel. Are you – are you?"

She nodded,

"Four weeks now. I took a bunch of tests last week to make sure. We – um – we were planning on telling you later, but – ," she shrugged and then tried very hard not to sob, since not only had she been tied up by a stalker, but he had ruined her happy announcement as well.

Stupid Elliott.

_Ugh_.

"How did he get you?" I whispered into the darkness.

Kelly snorted bitterly,

"Oh. Brent left his wallet in the car like an idiot so I went back to get it and just sort of _bumped_ into him. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw me. Couldn't believe his freaking asshole luck I guess," she paused for a second, "Dear god. I mean _Elliott_."

"I know."

"Elliott _Thurgood_," Kelly carried on, sounding a lot more Kel-like which was a good thing, "I mean, I always thought he liked _me_ back in school."

"We all did," I offered because everybody had done. Kelly had been blonde and big breasted and not shy and boys had flocked to her like moths to a lantern, whereas I had been mousey and _way_ shy and quiet. So what and why had he ever liked _me_ for?

"Laurie?" Kelly whispered, "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," I shook my head, "Crap I wish Dean was here now, because he would dirty deeds Elliott and then poke his eyes out, or put him straight into a headlock or something."

Kelly smiled,

"Not my Brent. That great big idiot wouldn't have a game plan. He would probably try and talk some sense into the man."

Her eyes filled up a second time at the thought of her husband and so did mine as I thought about Dean. Although suddenly the van drove over a pothole, which made Kelly's head bang hard into my boob and rammed something plastic and pokey right into it.

"Ow."

What the hell? Holy crap. Dean's _phone_, which I had shoved down my bra cup without even thinking and forgotten all about.

"Oh my god. You _idiot_."

"Who? Me?" Kelly frowned as I fumbled with my cleavage. Although admittedly it probably looked pretty weird.

I shook my head,

"No. I still have a cell phone."

"What?" Kelly barked rocking up onto her knees, which was actually pretty hard to do in a moving transit, changing lanes and hitting potholes. Where the hell were we going? Her eyes almost popped out of her head as I pulled the phone loose from my magical mystical Mary Poppins style bra.

Kelly snorted,

"Don't suppose you have a bottle of whisky and a packet of cigarettes hidden in there as well?"

I shook my head,

"Nope and besides, if I _did_ have then I wouldn't let a pregnant woman have any."

"Killjoy," Kelly smiled back but it was still pretty wobbly and all frightened looking, so I lit up the cell phone and unlocked the screen with a couple of taps, before nearly sobbing outright at Dean's background, which was a photo of me and our dog on the couch, stretched out together one evening and sleeping, which Dean had snapped as he had come in from a show. I had seen it before, but hadn't known it was his _home screen_. Usually he just had one of the bland inbuilt ones. I awwed a little then remembered we were kidnapped and so scrolled through his contacts before hitting a name.

"Pick up. _Please_ pick up," I mumbled into the handset before lurching at the sound of a familiar voice. Or make that a familiar and confused voice maybe.

"Um, hello?"

I grinned at it,

"_Brent_."

"Lauren, is that you?" he spluttered in response to me, "Is Kelly there with you? Where are you two girls? We've been near enough losing our minds looking for you and your husband here – _hey_."

There was a momentary pause and then another voice rumbled back in the silence, which was husky and beautiful and so comforting.

"Princess?"

"_Dean_."

"Thank fuck. Lauren where the freakin' hell are you? The show starts in fifteen minutes an' – ,"

I hiccupped,

"He has a gun and I know you said not to find any trouble, but – ,"

"Lauren," Dean cut in, which was probably wise since I was right on the verge of another long ramble, "What are you talking about? _Who_ has a gun?"

"A gun?" I heard Brent bark somewhere in the background as I snuffled pathetically,

"Elliott."

"Elliott?" Dean repeated with a frown, since obviously he was two steps behind on the narrative. Not that I blamed him, "Who the fuck is Elliott?"

"M-my stalker. He sent all the messages and – ,"

"Elliott?"

I blinked. Wait was that _Andy's_ voice? Because what in the world was he doing with them?

"As in Elliott Thurgood the little dweeb from school? The one who had that crush on Kelly?"

Um, yeah. About that –

"Is that Andy?" I frowned, "Dean, w-why is he there?"

"Uh," my husband faltered, "He was helpin' look for you."

"_Helping_?" my now gay ex-boyfriend barked loudly, with the sort of indignance I had become used to hearing over the course of our decade long trust, since clearly his sense of being constantly wounded hadn't faded with his straightness, "You accused me of grabbing her in revenge for having been outed in the hallway. Which, for your information, I'm not embarrassed about and even if I _was_ then – ,"

"Shut up," Dean growled roughly, before softening his tones, "Princess where are you?"

"Um, in a van," I whispered it worriedly in case Elliott could hear us from up front behind the wheel, "He had Kelly tied up. I didn't want to go with him, but I couldn't let him hurt her and now he's taking us to some special place and – ,"

"Where?" Dean demanded, "Lauren _where_ is he taking you?"

"I don't know. He didn't say. H-he just said he thought I would like it," I sniffed in response as Kelly squeezed my hand and god was I ever super glad she was with me, "Dean? We're kind of scared."

"I know you are. I know, but listen to me Princess, m' a' getcha out, okay? Both of you. You trust me?"

See? I knew he always said that.

"Uh huh."

"Me too," Brent pipped up, clearly puffing his chest out, "Because no one goes and tries to kidnap _my_ pregnant wife."

Dean blinked at him.

I guessed.

"Did you say _pregnant_?"

"And me too," Andy added in from behind, which cut through the baby chat pretty darn quickly as the menfolk presumably frowned at him,

"The fuck?" Dean offered with his typical flair for eloquence, "The hell you are asshole."

Andy huffed,

"Now look here, I care about Lauren every bit as much as you do – ,"

Dean spluttered,

"Oh, come on. Are you freakin' _kiddin_' me? She's _my_ wife. All _you_ are is the ex, who broke her damn arm once an' forced yourself on then decided he was gay."

"He's _what_ now?" Brent coughed as things broke down badly.

I squeaked out suddenly as the van turned off the road and seemed to swing in a brand new direction, which took us further and further away from where they were and then made me panic in a sharp burst of nausea.

"Dean – ,"

"_Fuck_. Princess, I'm comin' okay? I'll get you outta there baby. I promise."

"But we don't know where they are," Brent hissed in response, since much like his wife he had never been kidnapped _or_ faced with a life or death situation before. I mean his family owned _ice cream parlours_ for god sakes and his hobbies were golfing and playing video games, so no wonder the poor guy was totally freaking.

Andy cleared his throat,

"Uh, I might have an idea. I mean I can't be sure but it's better than nothing."

Dean blew a growl out,

"Fuck. _Fine_," he huffed, "But if you're wrong on this, or if this is all some game plan then I'll pop your eyes out with a corkscrew y' hear? An' then make 'em watch as I kick your ass so hard you'll be tastin' the fuckin' soul of my boot. You got me?"

Andy swallowed loudly down the line,

"Got it."

"Good. Princess?"

"Still here," I whispered into the darkness as the emergency light started to flicker on and off. Because that was _all_ we needed.

"We're coming, okay baby? So hang on in there an' be brave for me, 'kay? An' promise, freakin' _promise_ me that if that asshole points that gun at you, you'll – ,"

"Dean?"

I blinked as the signal cut out the further we slid into rural Wisconsin, or the bowels of hell or wherever we were going.

I wailed at it.

"_No_."

"Laurie? Laurie what's happening?"

_Ugh_.

I dropped the phone down into my lap and then bit back a self-pitying sob of desperation, because hearing Dean's voice had been keeping me calm. Or okay, not _calm_ but not freaking out either.

"No, no, no, _no_," I shouted into the van before suddenly realizing that Kelly was crying and that I wasn't really helping.

"Oh god, I'm sorry, I'm sorry Kel."

Folding my arms around her I hugged her like crazy, because I was the one who had been kidnapped before and I was the one with the crazed high school stalker, so it was my job to fix things and make them okay. Or at least as much as I was physically able.

"Laurie – ,"

"It's okay Kel, were going to be fine. Brent and Dean are coming to get us."

I decided to leave out the whole _Andy _part since at this point it would probably only confuse her. I mean honestly, it still pretty much confused _me_. I stroked her hair and then brushed a quick tear off.

"But until they get here I'm going to look after you, okay? And you know I can actually be pretty scary when I need to be."

Kelly snorted wetly,

"And besides," I carried on, "This is Elliott _Thurgood_ were talking about. The sweet little guy that you used to call ET and who carried my books and who helped us with our homework, so no way would he hurt us."

"Do you think?" Kelly sniffed,

Positive," I nodded, although inside I was freaking and more terrified than ever, because who really knew? Neither of us knew what Elliot was planning, or even where we were going.

I bit my lip.

"Yep. You and me are going to get out this. Just you wait and see."

Please, _please_ hurry Dean.

* * *

**Ooh, things are getting serious now! See you all next week to find out what happens.**


	16. Cliffhanger

**Here we go folks, the big dramatic climax! Only one more chapter left to go after this, so I hope you enjoy how things play out in this one and the good news (hopefully) is that I am currently working on the next one where **_**lots**_** of interesting things are going to happen. But first, back to this one…**

**Wolfgirl2013, Yep, a very big EEK. Which gets bigger in this chapter…**

**Minnie1015, Glad you liked it. I'm thinking (hoping...but mostly thinking if I may be so bold) that you'll like this one too. Lauren is going to come into her own...sort of. In her own special way of course!**

**Rebel8954, Well, you mention Lauren trying to keep Elliott rational. I hope you approve of her plan. Kelly doesn't and I'm not sure I do, but a girl has to do something to keep a crazy stalker calm, right?!**

**Moxley Gal1, Oooh, good! I wanted it to be someone you wouldn't be expecting and there was still some room to explore Elliott's feelings...which we're going to do in a big way here!**

**xXBalorBabeXx, Yep, Dean and Brent are going to need to motor. Luckily, based on the backstage clip we got from Raw last year, we know Dean has previous for speeding, so they might be okay!**

**Skovko, 4am! Go to bed woman! But yes, admittedly the thought of Dean in a Superman cape (probably borrowed from Roman) is a good one. Brent and Andy? Not so much!**

**Mandy, Thank you, mom's doing well, although the novelty of being her carer (again) is beginning to rub off! Ah well. Glad this story is keeping you on the edge of your seat. Might get that way again in this chapter too!**

**Phoenix lord of rebirth, I am honestly so glad you fell into this other Dean universe I have and decided to stay! And as a reward, we have a whole lot of crazy coming up in the chapter. But the good kind I hope!**

**I-Am-WarKitten, You did call it and I was totally impressed/gutted that someone had guessed! Haha. But seriously, well done! Hope you like this chapter and you may get another of your guesses too, but I won't say which!**

**Here we go...**

* * *

**Cliffhanger**

"Do you remember the first time we met?" Kelly whispered, forty eight minutes and seventeen seconds since the pair of us had been kidnapped and locked up in the van.

I knew it was that long because Dean's phone reminded me, along with providing a comforting glow, since the emergency light above the door had stopped working at thirty six minutes and nine seconds in.

There was still no signal.

I nodded,

"Of course I do. Marcus Hanson stole my breaktime apple and made me cry so you punched him in the face and brought it back. Even though he had already taken a bite out of it and given it cooties," which I had protested at the time, as Kelly had tried to clean it off on her dress hem before holding it out with a winning smile.

"_Here_."

Back in the present however she blew a breath out and then bit her lip down,

"Laurie, if anything happens to us – ,"

"Nope," I shook my head from side to side resolutely, "It won't. Nuh uh. Not to me, not to you and _definitely_ not to my brand new baby godchild. We need positive thinking here Kel and besides – ,"

Except I didn't get much further on that part, because suddenly a signal bar pinged on Dean's phone and made me let out a squeal of excitement which practically frightened poor Kelly to death, since she probably thought I had set off a booby trap or uncovered a rat's nest.

"Oh god, oh god. What?"

I beamed,

"We have signal. We officially have signal. _Ugh_, at last. Thank you wrestling gods."

Kelly blinked,

"Um, did you just say _wrestling_ gods?"

I nodded,

"Uh huh. Steve Austin, Bret Hart and Terry Funk. The Holy Wrestling Trinity. Or at least according to _Dean_ anyway. Roman and Seth used say something else and then the three of them would spend hours hashing it out together, while I sat in the back trying to Google all the names," I paused, "Hey, is it weird that I part of me kind of _misses_ that? The four of us just being together on the road? And do you think _Seth_ misses it or – ,"

"Laurie."

I nodded,

"Right. Call for help. Good point. Love you."

Not that I thought about calling the cops though. Weirdly it hadn't even entered my mind. Instead I had gone straight for calling my husband. Or my husband via Brent, which was basically the same thing and a sign of the faith that I had in my partner. Not to mention a year in the wrestling biz, where everything from insults to avenging a murder were carried out live, on screen, face to face.

"Brent, Brent, Brent," I mumbled, scrolling Dean's contacts as fast as I could and –

_Wait_.

Was I _Mrs Ambrose_? Holy crap that was impossibly adorable. Although before I could revel in the cuteness of my husband, _or_ find Kelly's on the alphabetic list, the van promptly bounced off the road underneath us and then threw us around before grinding to a halt.

Kelly hissed,

"Oh crap, oh fuck. We're stopping. Why are we stopping?"

"Maybe he's changed his mind?" I blinked, "Maybe he's realized that what he's doing is crazy and he's going to do the right thing and let us go?"

Which. Yeah, okay, so I didn't believe either. But hey, I mean, a girl could dream right? The driver's door slammed and feet crunched across the asphalt as Kelly and I clung together like orphaned chimps and was it normal to be able to feel your heartbeat in your tonsils? I decided it wasn't and then swallowed,

"It's okay Kel. We're going to be fine. Nothing bad is going to happen."

Except I was totally lying of course and which is therefore why I jumped like a jittery show horse as the doors were flung open.

"Surprise. Here we are."

Elliott was stood silhouetted in the darkness. Or _not_ darkness, since at some point the clouds had slid apart and were bathing the landscape in a silvery moonlight. _Familiar_ landscape. Were we at _Makeout Point_? I narrowed my eyes past my unblinking stalker and then drank in the inky blue hills out beyond and then mass of dark pine trees swaying in the background and the twinkle of a town on the waters of a lake.

_My_ town.

My _hometown_. Was that a good thing or bad thing? Either way Elliott certainly took it as a _yes_. He grinned,

"See Dumpling? I said you would like it."

Dumpling?

_Ugh_. Because _again _with the nickname schtick? Did he think it was cute and the sort of thing women that wanted or had he seen on a nineteen fifties show on TV? Because no way in hell was I ever a Muffin, _or_ a Dumpling. I was _Princess_. Nothing more and nothing less.

Bravely I tried to swallow a lump down,

"Elliott – ,"

He ignored me,

"I always wanted to bring you here. I used to think about all the things I would say to you and how I was going to make you fall in love with me. Now here's my chance. Don't be scared Lauren," he waved the gun loosely, "Out you come now."

_Oh right_ – I nearly huffed – don't be scared of the gun wielding stalker. Not that I actually _said_ that part though, since instead I simply locked hands tight with Kelly and then climbed from the van trying to keep her behind. Although _god_ was it weird not having her feisty. Because Kel was _always_ feisty. Well, in the real world at least.

Not that Elliott much cared or seemed to notice.

"Do you know why I like you Lauren?" he asked me suddenly with an awkward little shuffle and –

Oh dear god. Was that a _blush_?

"Um, is it because of my fabulous bone structure?" I offered back, figuring that everyone would laugh and then everything would suddenly stop being so, well, _deadly_. Except that didn't happen. Instead Elliott merely blinked and Kel hissed my name in disbelief from behind me.

"_Laurie_."

I cleared my throat nervously,

"Uh, I mean, carry on."

Note to self. Stop trying to be funny.

"I like you because you were nice to me at school," Elliott shrugged like it was perfectly reasonable to kidnap a person on that basis alone, "Everyone else used to laugh or make fun of me. _Especially _that one."

He gestured at Kel, who dug her red nails into my arm a little deeper and then squeaked,

"Oh god – ,"

"It's okay," I murmured back, shakily patting at her hand like a grandma, which went unnoticed by Elliott who was warming up for a sizeable rant.

"Walking around like she was better than everyone. Making me do her homework. Calling me ET. I mean, do you know what it's _like_ to spend every day of high school being told to _phone home_?"

"Um," I shook my head, "N-no. But I _do_ know that Kel is very sorry. Right Kelly?"

I elbowed my best friend none too subtly in the ribs and she nodded,

"Oh, yes. Very sorry."

"See Elliott? _Very_ sorry. So if you could let her go now, then – ,"

"_No_," he bellowed back, making us clutch at each other in terror as his patience suddenly snapped like a twig. He kicked a small rock which skittered away from him and then plunged fifty foot down the cliff face beyond. Because _ooh_ we were high. Had it always been this high? Probably, yes, but I was sure it had grown, "She doesn't leave until she knows what it feels like to be a sorry little nobody."

"Elliott _please_," I hiccupped back, "You – you _can't_ be mean. Not now. Not to Kelly."

"Why?" he snorted, "Give me one good reason why? After years of biting my tongue and keeping quiet. Why should I be nice?"

"_Because she's pregnant_," I blurted out. Or okay, more like screeched out across the clifftop and so loudly that people back in town probably heard.

Kelly hissed,

"_Laurie_."

"She — she's _what_?" Elliott spluttered, his beady eyes nearly popping out of his head, like the weird pirate guy in the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ movie. But the first one, before they all went a bit crap. He shook his head, "No, they'll never forgive me."

"Um — ,"

I wasn't too sure who the mysterious _they_ were. His parents? The voices in his head? Wisconsinites?

"No, no, _no_," he ran his fingers through his tangle and then had what I assumed was a breakdown, "She — she can't be. She just _can't_. This isn't the plan. This isn't what I was planning."

He still had the gun clenched tight in his hand, but seemed somehow way less in control of it than he had done and on the verge of even using it, which was very very bad. But then what could I do? God I wished that Dean was there with me. Because _he_ would have known in a flash what to do, or would have had a cool move to disarm him or something. Whereas all _I_ had meanwhile was a busted ankle and my charms.

_Charms_.

I blinked as I had a sudden brainwave. Or insanity wave maybe. But I had to try, right? Biting my lip I leaned closer to Kelly and then hissed at her,

"When I get the gun away, you run."

She frowned at me,

"_What_? Laurie no. Are you crazy?"

"Um, maybe?" I winced. But I didn't sound sure. Elliott wheeled the piece back in our direction,

"Hey, hey stop that. What are you saying? Are you talking about me? Stop talking about me."

Kelly squeaked, but oddly I suddenly felt weirdly calm. Because Dean _wasn't_ there. It was all up to me now. Not that it meant he wasn't coming to get me out, because I knew with every ounce of my soul he would get there. But _until_ he did it my job to try and save us both. My best friend spluttered,

"No, we weren't talking about you, we-we were just – ,"

"Saying I love you," I butted in, spinning around with a sudden smile of passion and trying to ignore her cough of surprise. Or revulsion, or possibly _both_ of those together,

"You, _huh_ — ,"

I ignored her,

"I never noticed it before, but – um – seeing you stood there with that gun looking – _manly_ is making me feel things. Um, _romantic_ things."

Bleurgh.

I nearly threw up in my mouth as I said it, but thankfully held it back. Elliott gaped at me,

"It does?"

"Um, yes," I nodded, stepping shakily towards him and trying to look sultry, which was actually pretty hard, considering that I was stood on the top of a mountain coming on to my stalker, "I — I think you're really hot."

"If you're lying — ,"

"I'm not," I squeaked in sudden panic, stumbling on a rock and falling into his chest, "_Oof_ — I'm not, I promise."

Elliott blinked,

"Prove it to me."

"Wha — ,"

"If you love me then you can prove it," he barked, caught between desperately wanting to believe me and being suspicious of my sudden turnaround. My heart was beating at a million miles an hour. Okay, crap, I was in over my head, because how in the world was I ever meant to prove it when I _actually_ hated him and wanted him to die? Or, well, not _die_ because that seemed too serious, but maybe break a leg or get a really bad cramp.

A branch broke behind us and Elliott panicked and then lifted the gun up. It was pointing at Kel and so I therefore did the only real thing I could think of.

I kissed him.

Yep.

I smooched ET.

Not that it was exactly _romantic_ – technically it was more of a lip to lip smush – but it worked though, because when I eventually broke away from him he was blinking at me in wonder.

Eep.

_Don't puke, don't puke_.

"Oh god, Lauren, I knew it," he spluttered, his face lighting up like a teeny tiny child who had just been given a toy car for Christmas. Only _I_ was the car and he was a dick, "Deep down I — I always knew that you loved me and that kiss just proved it."

I blinked at him,

"It did? Oh, I mean — uh — of course it did. I love you, always have. Yep."

I heard Kelly make a noise which I guessed was a blend of total stomach churning nausea and pure thankfulness that she hadn't been shot. Or, okay, so probably mostly the nausea. Elliott lovingly tangled up our hands, except it turned out that he was so impossibly sweaty that my fingers nearly slipped straight back out again.

Gross.

"Muffin," he murmured.

It wasn't a question, more like he just liked saying the word. Although as he reached out his gun hand to thumb along my cheekbone, I swiftly chickened out and ducked away from him,

"Um, d-don't you think the view here is beautiful?" I spluttered loose, rapidly turning my back, which was probably not crazed gunman 101 etiquette but at least the hid the look of sheer terror on my face, "Y-you know, w-with the trees and the lake and e-everything?"

Elliott came up from behind then stood too close to me. He was practically breathing down the back of my shirt and so taking the chance I held my breath and then reached back, before hesitantly pulling his skinny arms in around my waist. Like maybe the two of us really _were_ lovers. His chest bumped my back and I bit down a whimper and the urge to turn and run for the hills.

_Ooh crap_.

"It used to kill me when you came here with _him_ you know Lauren," he murmured, right into my earlobe,

_Ick_.

I frowned,

"D-do you mean Dean?"

The gun was pointed off out into the darkness and for once not either at me or Kel and so if I could just grab it then —

He shook his head,

"Not_ that_ one. The _other _poor excuse for a man you were with. The one who strung you along for a decade."

"Andy?" I squeaked, still looking at the gun. Because maybe if I could distract him for a second, I could knock it from his hand and then get to it first, meaning that he wouldn't be able to frighten us with it and _also_ meaning that Kel or I could kick him in the balls, since that was the least he deserved for this nonsense.

Elliott snorted,

"Huh. Yeah, _that _asshole," because wow, was there anyone in my world that he _did_ like? Although, okay, so maybe he had a point with Andy, "He didn't deserve you Lauren. Not one single bit of you. He was too cold and strict. He never treated you right, or showed you off, or even acted like he loved you."

"Yeah well, that's probably because he's gay," I huffed out back, briefly forgetting the whole hostage situation and the fact they didn't know.

"He's what?"

"He's _what_?" Kelly barked, her shriek nearly blowing out windows in China. Elliott loosened his hold on the gun and my heart flipped over.

This was my moment. At least, I _hoped_ it was.

"Kelly _run_," I yelled while making a grab for the revolver, which actually slid easily from Elliott's sweaty palm. I fumbled it though, because I had never held a gun before, which meant that it was still pointed off at the treeline when Elliott knocked me off my feet with a tackle and into a full bodied sprawl on the ground, which scraped the skin off my elbow.

"Ouch — ,"

The gun went skittering loose and I groped for it as Elliott landed on top of me and then tried to pin my arms down as I struggled and scratched.

"Damn it Lauren. I love you. Stop fighting."

"Get off me," I screamed, twisting out of his grip and then rearing my fist back like my husband had taught me and for the second time in a year, punching Elliott in the face. Or, okay, in the _nose_ to be specific. He reeled back clutching it,

"Oh god. I taste blood. Is — is it broken? Did you break it? Christ Lauren. What the hell is wrong with you?"

I brought a knee up to his crotch and then pushed him backwards.

"What's wrong with _me_?" I panted, "Hello? I've been kidnapped by a psycho with a gun and — ,"

The gun.

We both remembered at pretty much the same moment that the weapon was lying unclaimed on the ground and then launched for it together like we were moving in slow motion, but with me on my stomach and him on his feet. I was the closest, but as I stretched a frantic hand out, Elliott reached down and grabbed the heel of my bad foot, pulling me back towards the edge of the cliff face which he was teetering on.

Yep. I had _really_ pissed him off.

Blood was streaming from both of his nostrils and he was back to not blinking, which was not a good sign.

"Leave me alone," I screamed out in panic, as he started to reel me backwards.

"I'm trying to _save_ you Lauren — ,"

"Let _go_."

I kicked out, booting him hard with my good foot and then throwing him off balance so that he stumbled on the rocks. He was close to the edge and for a horrible second I thought he was going to plunge backwards to his death, which would have been –

Um. I had to think for a second. But _bad_. It would have definitely, _definitely_ been bad.

Right?

Although as it was he simply windmilled like Wile E Coyote, before righting himself and then fixing a murderous look at me. Because, had I mentioned the whole _pissing him off_ part?

"Lauren," he snarled, "You shouldn't have done that."

He took a step towards me – or more like a stamp actually – but before he could get closer, ten different things happened at once. The _first_ thing being the sound of an engine in the background, or what _sounded_ like an engine. Not that I had much time to check, since the_ second_ thing that happened was a section of the cliff face crumbling to pieces and dropping Elliott like a brick.

He disappeared with a yelp but grabbed my ankle as he plummeted and pulled me down with him.

"_No_ — ,"

I let out a scream. An actual, blood curdling scream of pure terror, which bounced off the rocks and even made _my_ ears ring. But which also masked the thick boots pelting towards me as I slid across the edge.

"_Lauren_."

Hands grabbed my wrists, making a seal and then stopping me falling as Elliott's fingers peeled away from my foot. He yelped and then there was a definite _thud_ noise, but I only half heard it over the pounding of my heart and my brief but very, very real confusion as I blinked into the face peering down at me.

"_Dean_."

Because yep —

There he was. Lying flat on his belly in what had obviously been a full skid across the rocks. I let out a sob and he grumbled at me,

"Easy. Easy Lauren, I gotcha, I gotcha. Holy _fuck_."

Digging his heels in he started pulling backwards, dragging me bodily up over the rock and taking my full weight as my legs kind of dangled.

Because god I had come_ so_ close to —

Don't think about it.

Nope.

As my feet found some purchase I kicked up against the cliff face, which propelled me the final distance back up onto solid ground and into Dean's arms which I fully _scrambled_ into, clawing wildly at his jacket and knocking him flat.

"_Fuck_."

His arms came up around me as we toppled over backwards and then held me against him as I blubbered and shook. Because, I mean, why _wouldn't_ I ramble when I had nearly been killed?

"Oh god. D-_Dean_. I thought — I thought I was going to go over and — ," I choked on some tears and then nearly threw up, "It's my fault. I — I thought I could get the gun away, but he was _so_ angry and I was trying to save Kelly and — ,"

"Lauren, _whoa_."

His hands came up around my face, cupping my cheekbones, but also sweeping my hair back, as loose strands began to stick to my tear slickened skin. I sucked in a breath and then blinked up towards him, seeing him properly almost for the first time and grounding myself in his familiar features. His stubble, his messy hair, his deep blue eyes —

"Dean," I sobbed, his name not part of any functioning sentence, but more a confirmation. I folded into his chest and he tucked me in close and pressed a kiss against my forehead, hard and relieved,

"I know Princess, I know."

The gun was lying right beside us in the moonlight and I shuddered as he reached for the thing then held it up, in all of its heavy, murderous, metal based fury and —

"You know this is a fake, right?"

I blinked at him,

"It's _what_?"

"Fake," he replied, waving it in front of me so that something sort of _clicked_ inside. Something flimsy and kind of plastic sounding, like no part of it was metal or ever _had_ been.

"Oh."

Frowning even harder I could make out a sentence, stamped in small letters along the long barrel edge, which up close seemed to proudly announce _Made In China_. I gaped for a second. And then started to cry.

"But I — but I — ,"

"Ssh," Dean murmured against me huskily, as I buried my face back into his shirt. God it all seemed so _unfair_ all of a sudden. Because if the gun wasn't real, then therefore none of it had been. None of the fear, or the threat, or my bravery. I felt like an idiot, "Lauren, hey, it's okay."

"No," I wailed, wiping tears on his jacket, "No it isn't, b-because I thought it was real and — ,"

"Doesn't matter," Dean grumbled back, kissing my forehead a second time fiercely, "What matters is that you fuckin' stood up for yourself. I mean, not that m' freakin' crazy about you tacklin' a gunman right on the edge of fifty foot drop, but do have any idea how fuckin' _proud_ I am right now?"

"Of m-me?" I spluttered, lifting my head. Dean was grinning back at me and oh god I loved him. No one else. Ever. Just him. He peeled back my wet hair and then swept in suddenly with a much needed lip lock that I physically gasped into before sinking a little.

_Mmm_.

Kissing my husband was way better than kissing Elliott and —

Oh god. _Elliott_.

I pulled away with a gasp and then turned back towards the moonlight lit cliff edge as my husband frowned across at me,

"Lauren?"

"What happened to — ,"

"I'll check."

I jumped a little at the sound of a new voice and then blinked into the moonlight as Andy scuttled past. Wait. _Andy_ was there? I turned back to Dean cluelessly, who got it at once, because — ugh — of _course_ he did. He was perfect.

"Uh, yeah, so he _insisted_ on comin'. Figured this is the one place that fuckin' _asshole_ would come an', well, I mean, kind of a lucky call I guess."

"He's alive," Andy called. Which – thank god – was a good thing. A moan echoed up from somewhere over the drop, followed by a sob, "But we should probably call an ambulance. Oh, and the police."

"Already on it," Brent chirped, from where he was stood holding Kelly against him, in the same sort of relief with which Dean was holding me.

Kel stepped towards us and on seeing her coming, Dean helped me up back onto my feet and then kissed my head before stepping away from us as my best friend almost physically _absorbed_ me in a hug.

"Oh god, Laurie — ,"

"I'm okay," I croaked tearfully. She pulled back sniffling and then smoothed my hair down,

"You could have been killed and I just _stood_ there and — ,"

"You had to. You're pregnant."

"You – you saved my life."

"You're my best friend. I _had_ to," I sobbed back at her, as Kelly pulled me in for another boob smush and wailed identical tears of lifelong sisterhood,

"And you're mine sweetie. You'll always be mine."

In the background I could see Dean peering over the cliff edge and Brent walking round and around on the phone. But I could also see Andy. My asshole ex-boyfriend. Who was gay now. And different. In fact, _both_ of us were. The timid little Lauren that he had once dated would _never_ have taken on a man with a gun and nor would the Andy of old have come to save me. So maybe there _was_ room to forgive and move on?

Sensing me looking, he blinked up towards me and I offered him a smile and mouthed a peace offering.

_Thank you._

He nodded in response and smiled back at me curtly. We were going to be okay. We_ all_ were.

_Anytime._

* * *

**Alrighty then folks. The big dramatic chapter is all done. One more to go now. Hope you'll all be there for it.**

**See you next week.**


	17. Made For Lovin' You

**Ta da! Final chapter. Once again thank you to everyone who has read and especially to those who have reviewed, relentlessly, through hell and high water. You people make my day! (Notes on upcoming stories/sequels etc. down at the bottom)**

**xXBalorBabeXx, Oh don't worry, Elliott is definitely going to jail and I like to think that Andy really has changed (and not just in sexual orientation either!) As ever, thank you sooo much for reviewing and sticking with this couple through all the bad times (which, let's face it, is every story!)**

**Mandy, Thank you. I'm not much of a one for eternal patience, but I'm trying my best with my mum! Glad you liked that last chapter. I felt it was time for Lauren to kick some ass. Hope you like this final (sweeter) chapter and thank you so very, very, very, very, very much, for always being there to support my work and for making me feel like it means something to someone other than just me!**

**Debwood-1999, Haha, aww, well, I'm sorry it wasn't Bray Wyatt...**_**this**_** time. Because you might want to make sure to look out for the sequel to this story, which I think might make you a whole lot happier (P.S. you were right about the timelines!) Also, thank you so much for reviewing. I **_**love**_** knowing what everyone is thinking as we go!**

**Minnie1015, Yay! That's exactly what I was hoping for. I really wanted Lauren to grow in this one (and the next one…) so I'm glad that stood out to you as well. Initially this story had a totally different, not as grow-y climax, so I rewrote it because our girl needed to kick a little ass! Although, naturally of course Dean is still there to bail her out of it! Plus as ever, thank you for your reviews (and not to mention your friendship in general. Thanks pal).**

**Wolfgirl2013, Ooh, I'm so glad you asked! Yes there is another sequel coming up. It's called Find You, but I've got a couple of other things to post first, so scroll down to the bottom to read more about them and thank you soooooo very much for all your reviews! They make this story seem like it might be worth reading!**

**Phoenix lord of rebirth, Awww, thank you **_**so**_** much! Firstly for the compliment about my writing and secondly for sticking with this loopy little couple of mine. I do have other things on the boil (scroll down for more deets) but in short; I've got a Roman/Dean friendship oneshot; an early Mox story; another Little Brother story (if I can get it finished in time) and then another Dean and Lauren. Hope to see you there for some of them and thank you endlessly for your reviews. I loved seeing your perspective to Dean and Lauren as someone who hasn't been 'with them' from the start! Meant a lot!**

**Skovko, Yes, I think Kelly learnt a valuable lesson. But I don't think she's quite the girl she was in high school now either. I think Brent and Roger changed her. Of course, Elliott's not to know that. Or really much of anything since he's concussed and a total lunatic anyway! Well, here we are, the final chapter on this one, so, as ever my old friend, THANK YOOOOOUUUUUU!**

**MamaChele81, I can't believe you read every Dean and Lauren story in pretty much one day! I'm so glad you took the plunge with them though and hey, I'm always happy to add more readers! Also, thank you so so so so much for all the reviews. I keep looking at my phone wondering when the next one was coming and where you had got up to! Hope to see you for the next one as well.**

**Right, one more time on this one then...**

* * *

**Made For Lovin' You**

The land was set well back from the road in the tree line, so that the sunshine trying to stream in through the leafy canopy produced a mottled effect on the house, which, coupled with the winds blowing in off the lakeside, bathed the place with a sort of _freshness_ that I liked. Not to mention a sense of being hidden within the landscape that I knew would strike a cord with my back-to-nature loving man.

Boomer too, because I knew he would have loved it.

Dean cleared his throat and I looked up.

_Whoops_.

Beyond me our blonde and very business like realtor had stepped with a wave of her hand from the hall, clearly assuming we were going to follow.

My husband snorted and then prodded me along, through the open and spacious entrance into –

"Oh wow."

The most incredible room.

Double height and vaulted with beams criss crossed above us in beautiful pale hues of locally sourced wood, but set beside great big picture-sized windows that looked out over the sloped lawn and then on through the trees and finally to the lakeside which formed the final perimeter of what could potentially be our new home. In the middle there was a chimney breast that reached up to the ceiling and in a flash I could envision how the winters could be. With the three of us curled up in front of the embers, while bitter winds howled and built snow up on the outside.

Hot chocolate.

Hot chocolate would _have_ to be involved somewhere.

"So, what do you think?"

I squeaked in response, which made Dean hack out a snicker snort behind me, but both of which our realtor bypassed with a smile and smelling a sale like a prize winning bloodhound.

"Would you like to see the kitchen?"

I nodded,

"Ooh yes please."

The kitchen.

Oh god. The freaking _kitchen_. Which held a table and _ten_ chairs for more formal meals and a breakfast bar in the island beyond it, with country cream cupboards and sleek stone countertops which had pretty much been polished to within an inch of their lives, to the point that they looked like they had never been used before.

I could see myself there.

I could see _all_ of us there. Dean at the bar in the morning in his boxers, with his hair mussed up while I cooked pancakes and toast and with the hound laid patiently at my feet, ever watchful, in the hopes that some food would tumble down from the stove.

I turned towards Dean,

"This is my kitchen and I love it."

"Oh, I _knew_ you would," our realtor replied, with a beam of veneers and a hand clap of happiness, like she could practically _see_ her commission for the sale and possibly the purse or the shoes she planned to buy with it, since she looked the type of person to have a closet filled with _things_.

In fact in many ways she reminded me of someone.

It was obvious who –

Kelly.

My kickass best pal who had recovered so well from having been kidnapped, that she had been able to give a statement to the police there and then, when the whole entire precinct of my quaint little hometown had turned up to see what all the fuss was about.

Elliott had been airlifted to the hospital thereafter, with a suspected back fracture which meant a brace for nine months and would presumably be something for him to talk about in prison. Which was where he was going for a _very_ long time.

Not that _a long time_ had been long enough for Kelly, who had strode forward to kick the gurney as it was being winched up and who had then bellowed over the roar of the rotor blades, so that everyone could hear her.

"That's for my unborn child."

In response to the memory I chuckled a little.

Kelly was such a badass.

Not that our realtor knew that, since my snort merely made her knit her eyebrows in closer, before hurriedly pasting her smile back on as she pointed us back out into the entrance with her smart leather folder of specifications and facts, which she probably never looked at but made her feel important, or like maybe she was some type of PA to a movie star, rather than a realtor pushing houses perched on lake banks in a tiny little town in the back of beyond.

"How about I show you two lovebirds the bedroom?"

"'Bout time freakin' time," Dean snorted,

I coughed,

"Uh, he means yes please."

Her black heels spun and clipped briskly away from us, but at such a burst of speed I had to trot to keep up, which my husband smiled at as he sauntered behind us, like a bonafide rock star in his plain black top and the black cap turned backwards that made his hair sprout out beneath it and the _both_ of which made him look impossibly hot. I beamed to myself – ha, that was my husband – then tailed our realtor up the stairs from the hall, which led into a real life _galleried landing _which took us to the bedroom.

Holy heck what a place.

Not only in terms of the space on offer, but _also_ thanks to the view of the lake, which bounced back the sun so that the water seemed to sparkle in a way that I could happily have looked at for hours, since the calm little eddies were virtually mesmeric.

Blonde realtor lady clutched her clipboard,

"It leads out onto your terrace."

"Oooh," I blinked, "Really?"

"Go take a peak," she offered, gesturing to doors which opened out from beside the bed. Keen to see more, I stepped hastily through them and out into a beautifully hot patch of sun, that had snuck in between a break in the overhead canopy to bathe the little patio in a tropical sub heat, which had convinced the present owners to install a freaking _hot tub_ and not to mention a small working bar. Dean slid behind it once and then ran the palm of his hand across the woodwork, like maybe he had found his purpose in life. Our realtor grinned. Did she have other expressions?

"Perfectly positioned for use in the summer as you can tell. Positioned for evening sunlight and with the lake set behind it."

Dean picked up a bottle,

"I'll make you a deal. How 'bout the owner throws his stock in with the sale here an' _really_ makes it worth my while?"

"Oh, I mean, I _suppose_ – ,"

"Hold up," Dean twisted the cap from a whisky bottle and then poured out a taster as our poor realtor looked on, but with a blink that implied that him drinking her client's liquor wasn't exactly a situation she'd encountered before.

Not that Dean cared. He didn't care about anyone. You know, unless _anyone_ was me or Roman that was.

Naturally of course, he had told our laid up powerhouse the whole _kidnap_ _saga_ when he had phoned later that night. Once the police had finally taken every statement and released us back to the comfort of my old house, whereupon I had practically planted nose first into the bedclothes and then slipped into a heavy but less than settled type of sleep. Roman had evidently known _something_ had happened from the fact that neither one of us had been on the show and so Dean had briskly filled him in on the specifics as my super weary consciousness had faded in and then out.

Even so heated words had still filtered through to me.

_Bastard_.

_Cliff_.

_Wanna squeeze his stupid throat_.

Dean had come to bed pretty pumped when he had finished, but had nevertheless wrapped me up in his arms and swept his hands through my hair in a sweet little motion, which I had drifted right off to and then slept and slept.

In total, it had been a whole month since the drama and I still felt a little blindsided by it all, but on the plus side work had been completely supportive, even Vince and surprisingly – and worryingly – JBL.

Back in the present, Dean smacked his lips happily and then blew out a chuckle,

"Whoa that is good hooch. Now, lemme see what else this guy has here."

"Mister Ambrose please – ," our realtor coughed and okay, so possibly I should have tried to stop him for her before he sampled his way through every bottle in the house, but instead I followed the terrace round the corner and then held back a squeal as my wish list played out. Because as well as the fireplace and the lake out beyond me, I also had my final requirement as well. The patio was a one hundred and ten percent wraparound.

I did a little dance and then squeaked.

"Hell yes."

Because the house was perched on the slope of the hillside, it meant the second floor butted up beside the lawn, so that the terrace – my terrace – looked through several upstairs windows._ Including_ the super luxurious master bath, with a sunken tub and a his and hers shower that probably could have fitted most of the locker room in as well. Or possibly one and a half Mark Henrys.

Not that I wanted to shower with him.

_Eek_.

More of the same beautiful lakeside views filled my periphery, with the hills and the town on the far bank beyond, which instantly made me think of my mother and her own little house and how not having her there hurt.

I would have done anything to have an hour with her, to talk about Dean and to bitch about my dad, who had so far had said nothing about my being kidnapped.

Seriously.

Nothing. Not even a word. I mean, not that I had thought there would be a whole lot from him. You know, given that his wife was satan herself. But at the same I had hoped for a flicker of _something_. You know? Like a brow knit or maybe even a kind word.

For a second I had even thought I might get it when I had practically walked into my father backstage and then stood as he had psyched himself up to talk to me. Or, at least, it had _seemed_ like he was. Before Stephanie had swept in and wrinkled her nose at me. Like she'd been smelling something bad,

"Don't you have someplace to be? Run along Lauren. Don't keep your husband waiting. Or your ex, or your stalker or whoever it is."

_Ugh_.

Back in the real world I startled a little as hands fell in heavy and warm on my hips and then slid to my stomach as they pulled me in backwards and towards the chiselled beauty of a set of washboard abs, which were followed by hot lips pressed loose to my neckline and a murmured little kiss.

"Fuck. I like havin' terrace view of the tub. Means I can sit an' freakin' watch while you bubble."

"Like some pervert you mean?" I grinned back in response.

Dean shrugged,

"I was thinkin' like a horny window cleaner."

"Oh," I nodded back wisely, "Of course. The classic trope. Does he come round when my big strong wrestler husband is away at the house shows and it's only me here?"

I tilted my head back so it knocked into his shoulder, but which let me have a flipped up view of his face and his pulled in brows and the smile beneath them, which looked a cross between curious and outraged.

"He better fuckin' not."

I tiptoed up backwards then reached for his lips in a slightly awkward but super sweet side on kiss. Honestly, I kind of _liked_ that he could see me in the bathroom. I mean, it had certainly had _potential_ to be really hot and on the plus side, when I fell out of the tub and cracked my skull wide trying to be sexy as I towelled myself down, then he would probably easily be able to see it and call an ambulance for me, so that worked as well.

Dean blew a breath out,

"Okay then Princess, so like, I mean what exactly are we thinkin' here?"

"Bath sex is hot?"

Dean lifted a brow up,

"Uh, okay, I freakin' meant about the house. But m' gonna be honest, I like where your head is an' I think we should come back to that."

I blushed in response and my husband chuckled and then kissed my temple, because thankfully he liked when my brain wandered off. He found it cute, or lovable, or something, which admittedly I had never really understood, but was thankful for at least. Andy had hated my rambles and had rolled his eyes or butted right in and cut me off, or tapped at his watch or a million and one _other_ things that Dean had apparently never even _thought_ about.

Clearing his throat, he tried the question another way. Slower this time, so I understood,

"Do you like the house?"

"I think I can see us having babies here," I answered, "And coming home off the road and – ,"

"Havin' tub sex?"

I shrugged,

"Maybe only on birthdays and holidays. You know, as kind of a special sex treat."

"How 'bout it bein' so close to the cliff edge?" Dean rumbled back, sounding hesitant this time. I blinked and then let my eyes taper up the hills beyond us, to the trees that just about covered Makeout Point. Or rather, the place where Elliott had nearly killed me. _Accidentally_ of course, but, you know.

_Still_.

Sucking a breath in, I shook my head resolutely, which rubbed my ponytail over his pecs and maybe the back of my head on his nipples.

"Nope, I kind of like it and besides, when you think about it, Makeout Point kind of saved me."

Dean blinked,

"What? How the fuck d' ya figure _that_?"

"Because it stopped me from being driven off somewhere further, or to a tropical island or another Makeout Point. Someplace where you might _never_ have found me."

My husband mumbled back,

"Never losin' my girl. Woulda found you no matter where the fuck that asshole dragged you."

I hummed in response and then palmed his cheek,

"I know. But I still like the being this close to the mountains and the lake and the town and, oh, Kelly and my mom."

"So does that mean you want me to put in an offer?"

I blinked momentarily and then turned in his arms so that his hands slid over my stomach and hip bones and then crinkled my top loosely as we came face to face, which was a simple little motion that still flooded me with butterflies and a buzzy sensation that took over my whole brain. Frankly I couldn't imagine it _not_ being there. Because his eyes and his lips and dimples were my world and had been since the moment I had seen him in the rental place, standing in his loose fitting jeans at the desk.

I blinked,

"Um, do _you_ want to put in an offer?

Because it seemed pretty crucial that we both felt at home and especially since he was making the move out there_ for_ me.

He shrugged,

"I mean, it _is _pretty sweet, but I'll have to buy a mower for all the freakin' grass we got here."

"I thought men loved mowers."

Dean winked at me,

"True."

Behind us the breeze blew in a little harder, like maybe it wanted in on our loved up couple act and it made creep up to claim his lips sweetly and then lean forward to rest my head on his chest.

Beyond us, birds wheeled in the sky above the terrace and the tall thin trees that could soon have been ours and in which case the two of could kiss out there forever.

Next to _our_ bedroom, in _our_ backyard.

I balled my fists in Dean's shirt in excitement in a move that may, or may not have pinched his skin and in response he snorted, before patting my butt cheek and then turning in the direction of the well stocked little bar and probably – and perhaps more importantly – our realtor,

"Come on then. Suppose we should talk prices an' that crap."

My heart flipped over, but for a second I remained there looking out over the luscious well trimmed lawn, which tapered sharply off towards the crystalline waters and the mooring for the boat that we would probably never own. Even though I figured that Dean would buy a jet ski. Because it totally seemed like a _him _thing to own.

But _beyond_ that I could see our two kids in the summertime – two or three, I hadn't decided on that yet – running around screaming while he chased them with the hose end and while Boomer barked excitedly and tried to protect his tiny friends. I meanwhile would be stood in the doorway, trying to stay neutral until my husband scooped me up and pulled me into the fun they having and –

Okay fine, so I had seen one too many films. But still, I wanted it and for the first time I could _see_ it. Because of Dean, who was perfect and –

"Hey, are you fuckin' comin' or what?"

"Coming," I grinned. Because like I said.

Perfect.

In fact _everything_ was.

Life was good.

I was home.

* * *

**Well, there we have it folks. Another Dean and Lauren all done and dusted and leaving the doors wide open for another sequel...what with their brand new house and all and *shrugs super casually* you know, what's been going on with Seth in the last couple of stories. Anyway, the next Dean and Lauren is called 'Find You' and it's going to be up once I've got a few other things posted first, so please keep an eye out.**

**As for what's next? Well, next week I have a long oneshot about Dean and Roman in a sort of apocalyptic future (hopefully if/when you read it, that description is going to make more sense) and the week after that I'm delving back into early Mox territory again, but this time with a bit of a romantic bent. More details on that one with the oneshot though.**

**Anyway, thank you again to everyone who read and reviewed. Means the world. Hope I'll see you all at the next one!**


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